


Metamorphosis

by Sarah Problem (SarahProblem)



Series: Come With Me [19]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Bigotry & Prejudice, Complete, Established Relationship, M/M, Married Couple, Married Kirk/McCoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-04
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-10-22 07:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 44,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17658959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahProblem/pseuds/Sarah%20Problem
Summary: Their 'milk run' assignment interrupted, the Enterprise is called on to help an older member of the Federation out of a pickle. While the Federation seems destined to inherit a very large problem, at least the Enterprise can help settle one very old debate.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Metamorphosis

by Sarah Problem

 

 

Everything teaches transition, transference, metamorphosis:

therein is human power, in transference, not in creation;

& therein is human destiny, not in longevity but in removal.

We dive & reappear in new places.

_\--Ralph Waldo Emerson_

 

 

 

 

 

Sharon sat hunched up next to the car's rolled down passenger window, looking out to the darkness outside. Parked at the side of a dirt road, as far from the city as she'd ever been, she felt nervous and shaky. Only a few days past her sixteenth birthday, she wasn't quite sure that this is where she wanted to be.

A cool breeze blew in from the side of the road that was an open field, swept through the car, and out to the forest on the other side. It caught wisps of her hair, making them float. On the forest side, the rustling of leaves that were hidden by the darkness of June's waning moon gave the area a foreboding feeling. But the goosebumps down her back and on her arms were from more than just being in the dark.

Bobby Joe slid across the bench seat in the 1935 Ford sedan, close to her. His arm went around her shoulders. His voice was wheedling, almost whiny, in the dark that was a bit too intimate for her.

" _Come on,_ Sharon," Bobby Joe said, pulling her close. "It's just you and me out here. We can do whatever we want!"

And that was the problem. Two years older, Bobby Joe hadn't been her boyfriend long enough for her to be comfortable being all alone. Oh, he was tall and handsome, and most of her friends were terribly jealous that he'd picked her out of the crowd to be his girlfriend. But she didn't know him very well.

Sharon didn't look up at him. With all the lights in the car off, she couldn't see him well anyway. She smoothed down the skirt of her dress nervously. The weight of Bobby Joe's arms across her shoulder felt more like a restraint than protection.

"We shouldn't be out here," she said timidly. "It's too far away from home. I don't like it."

Bobby Joe laughed. "Don't be such a baby. Lots of couples come out here. We're not children now, you know. Don't you want to be a real woman now? Don't you want to have some fun before you're too old?"

She startled when Bobby Joe put his hand on her leg. She panicked and pushed his hand away, tried to shrug out from under his arm.

"No. I want to go home."

"Sharon. C'mon."

Sharon shoved Bobby Joe away, opening the heavy car door and jumping out. The dirt road was hard and unlevel under her feet. Hugging her arms to herself, she started picking her way back toward the main road to town.

"I'll walk home."

"Sharon! Come back!"

"No!" Sharon said forcefully. "I'm going _home_."

"Don't be stupid."

Sharon heard the car door slam. Then Bobby Joe's steps came up behind her.

"I'm _not_ stupid," Sharon snapped over her shoulder, her fear giving way to anger. "I didn't want to come out here in the first place. I know what you want, Bobby Joe! I'm _not_ that kind of girl!"

"But... I'm going to be leaving soon," Bobby Joe said gently, coming up close behind her. "I was going to tell you before... but I'm enlisting soon and--"

"What?" Sharon turned to look at him, suddenly fearful. "But you said--"

"Changed my mind," Bobby Joe said grimly. "We're at war now. They need everyone they can get. My Grandma will just have to deal as best she can without me."

"But you could get killed!"

"Please, Sharon," Bobby Joe said gently, coming closer to her. "I don't want to die a virgin. And you know you're the only girl--"

Suddenly, a high-pitched whining sound came from overhead, sounding strange, frightening and out of place. Looking up, only the twinkling stars shone through the sparse cloud cover.

"What was that?" Sharon asked, suddenly fearful in a way that sent shivers through her. She hugged her arms across her chest, and unconsciously took a step closer to Bobby Joe.

"I don't know," Bobby Joe said uncertainly, coming close enough to put an arm around her shoulders, eyes on the night sky. "It's nothing. There's no one out here but us."

But for a second, neither of them moved, and then the sound came again.

This time it was a high-pitched squeal, a strange mix of pained animal shriek and the sound of something mechanical giving way. It was growing louder and drew their attention to a dark spot in the night sky.

"There!" Bobby Joe shouted excitedly as he pointed upwards. "It's there!"

When Sharon looked, she could see an oval-shaped darkness against the clouds. As it moved across the sky, she could see it blot out the clouds and stars behind it. Then, there were flickers around the edges, like a row of electric bulbs going on and off sporadically. It was dark, but with a reflected shine that seemed to swirl with bits of color. And it _seemed_ large, but Sharon couldn't tell the size for sure and wasn't sure how close it was. It could be the size of a car, a locomotive, or even a building. She couldn't tell.

There was a loud boom, and Sharon shrieked and turned to Bobby Joe, curling up against him in fear as the large object seemed to wobble toward them. Police and fire engine sirens sounded in the distance.

"We're being attacked!" Bobby Joe growled. He pushed Sharon away from him. "Get in the car!"

Sharon turned and ran back to the passenger door, sliding in and pulling the door shut as Bobby Joe jumped in and started the ignition.

Looking out the open window, it seemed as if the shape was growing bigger, blotting out more of the stars and clouds. Its saucer-like shape jumped, then seemed to stall right over them. Its smooth glide turned into a stutter and then, as she covered her mouth in a shriek, it twisted sideways and seemed to glide at a steep pitch, then dropped. She lost sight of it behind the treetops.

As the sirens of police and fire engines grew louder behind them, they were suddenly drowned out by the sound of a tremendous clamor as something large and heavy crashed in the distance. Sparks and the glow of a green, sickly light shot up just as Bobby Joe hit the gas and the car lurched in reverse. Sharon hung on, almost thrown to the dash as Bobby Joe made a frantic three-point turn in the heavy vehicle.

Bobby Joe hit the gas, taking them out the way they had come in. A few minutes later Bobby Joe slammed on the breaks as they came to the juncture. In a rush of sound and speed, three police cars, a fire engine, and a military Jeep flashed by, heading toward the distant crash.

"What do you think that was?" Bobby Joe asked as they sat in the car, watching the red taillights of the response vehicles disappear into the distance.

"I... I don't know," Sharon said, goosebumps once again taking ahold of her. "That didn't look like a plane. Isn't this where... where that farmer said, he _saw_...?"

"There's _no such thing_ ," Bobby Joe said forcefully. She could hear the scowl in his voice. "Ain't no such thing as UFO's and aliens. That's just crazy talk."

There was another boom that echoed through the dark.

"We're getting the heck out of here," Bobby Joe growled.

Sharon held on to the dashboard for dear life as Bobby Joe turned onto the main road, heading for town as fast as the car could go.

She didn't care if they got caught speeding. She wanted to go home.

 

***

 

 

Captain James T. Kirk ate his dinner quietly at the full Galley table, listening to the shop talk around him. Half of his attention was on Spock, Scotty and Sulu's discussion of the new program patches for the Enterprise they'd received a few days ago. The other half was on Bones, who was sitting on his left and pushing his mostly uneaten dinner around on his plate. What he did eat had been done quietly, hardly looking up.

Uhura, across from Jim and working on her own dinner, kept most of her attention on the on-going discussion as well. But Jim caught her sneaking glances at Bones.

_Something's off with him. He's been pretty reserved these last couple of weeks. I know he says nothing's wrong, but clearly, there is. He's been too broody, even for him._

The ship was slowly being moved to the other side of Federation space after the _Defiant_ incident, and had been given some 'milk run' assignments. Jim knew that some of that was because, as a whole, the crew needed the downtime. He also suspected the Federation wanted to keep them from being too near Tholian space for a while. And to make sure that everyone had come out of their adventures in the rift, and that other universe, mentally healthy. So, things had been quiet for a while.

Jim couldn't really say when he'd first noticed that Bones had started acting differently. Turning over the _Defiant_ after all that time with the dead had been a sobering experience. And Jim knew Bones had worried over Chekov's mental trauma coming between him and the younger man. Jim had assumed that everything would go back to normal in the weeks after they'd made their return to their own universe. But Bones's energy had seemed to run down.

He'd been uncharacteristically quiet, especially this last week. Bones had quit using the gamepods, saying he'd lost interest. He didn't feel like watching vids or listening to music. He tended to want to wander the ship in his off time. Or sleep a bit too much. And while seemingly in the mood for sex when Jim indicated his interest, he had seemed a bit... reserved.

_If he's getting depressed, Chekov may not be the only one who needs counseling. And that's going to be hard, to have to accept help from his own staff. Or even admit that he may need help at all._

Bones had brushed off the subject when Jim had tried to discuss it. Then had ignored all the invitations to talk that Jim had left open.

_I don't know what else to do. I can't make him talk. Not if he doesn't want to._

The current discussion suddenly interrupted his thoughts when Scotty, who sat on the opposite side of the table, pushed his tray aside.

"I tell ya, I _don't like it_ ," Scotty said to Spock. "How can we be sure that those new bits of programming won't make us go wonky if the _Science Officer_ isn't allowed to see them?"

Spock, who was sitting to Jim's right, tilted his head to one side with amusement.

"While I appreciate your confidence in my skills, Mr. Scott, I do believe that Star Fleet Command has thoroughly tested the new section of programming. They have, after all, invested much time and effort in the maintenance of their ships and would wish them to function properly."

"Yeah, well, I don't like this new security measure." Scotty pushed his chair back with a huff and stood. "Not being able to see the programming for an important piece of equipment--"

"It's a _toilet_ ," Jim interjected with a small bit of exasperation. "I don't think they were thinking about the Chief Engineer's need to access _every_ piece of equipment on a ship when they packed up that bit of programming with the new security codes, Scotty. I don't think anyone considers a toilet a dangerous weapon. The upgrade just got bundled in with the other secure bits we received in the packet."

"And how do we know it's not a dangerous weapon _now_?" Scotty asked Jim, deadly serious. "We don't _know_ what's in the new programming!"

"Mr. Scott, considering the Enterprise's past history with suspect programming, I'm not inclined to argue the point," Jim said with a capitulating smile. "I'll immediately put in a request to either get an unsecured copy or raise your security level so you can access the new toilet programming. Until then, you can hold off on installing the update."

"Thank ye, Captain," Scotty said with a nod of his head and a satisfied smile. He glanced around the table and bent over to lower his voice. "An' pardon me for the bathroom talk at the dinner table. But if any of you have seen the things a power-crazed latrine can get up to--"

"I'm _sure_ we'd all agree with you," Jim interrupted with a nod. "Point taken."

With a smug look, Scotty walked away with his tray.

"Well, talking about latrines and toilets, I've got to get back to Biology," Sulu said with a sigh. "I told Ensign Belanty that I'd help her with the clean-up of the cages and terrariums. It's literally a zoo in there now. Tracy is having a hard time making sure all the various environments stay balanced. The clean-up never ends."

"She's new, isn't she?" Uhura asked. "I think I've met her just recently. Seems nice."

"Came aboard on the last stop," Sulu said. "Just out of the Academy. Seems to be fitting in really well in her division. I'm going to be introducing her around more in the Rec area."

"Thanks for volunteering with the clean-up," Jim said with feeling. "With all these specimens on board to get to Starbase 3, both Biology and Medical have been busy trying to keep all of them alive and happy. Right, Bones?"

Bones, apparently lost in thought, didn't look up. He was still pushing his food slowly around his plate.

Jim lowered his voice and leaned closer. "Bones?"

"What? Oh..." Bones looked up around him and smiled apologetically when he realized he'd missed something. "Sorry, drifted off."

Jim and Uhura traded a quick glance before Jim continued.

"Carting all those flora and fauna specimens to Starbase 3 has turned us into a zoo. I was telling Sulu I knew it was keeping Medical and Biology pretty busy."

"Oh, yeah, it is," Bones said with a small smile. It didn't really reach his eyes. "Don't know about the plant stuff, but some of the little critters need to be watched closely. And their habitats kept in balance minute by minute."

"I know they're all going various places from there," Uhura said, looking concerned. "But they're not going for research and testing, are they?"

"Oh, just research," Bones said with a minute shake of his head. "Nothing invasive. They're all level seventy-two or lower on the Kovechie Intelligence scale. Nothing as sentient as, say, a Terran cat or dog. They're mostly all at the insect level, and will live out their lives in some cute little enclosure somewhere while Biologists study them."

"And clean out their waste," Sulu said as he stood and gathered his tray. "But the good news is some of it can be excellent fertilizer for the plants from their specific ecology. So, it's not such a bad job when you think about it."

"I try not to," Jim said with a wince. He pushed his finished meal tray away and picked up his coffee. "One of my earliest paid jobs as a kid was being a dog-walker and yard cleaner for my neighbors. One of them was an elderly man with six dogs and a couple of cats. On really hot days it was the worst."

"Jim Kirk's Poo Patrol," Sulu said with a grin. "Child entrepreneur."

"Let's just say..." Jim grinned as he sipped his coffee, elbows on the table. "It effectively taught me that I should continue my education, so I didn't have to do that for a living. Definitely not my thing."

"I'll join you," Bones said suddenly to Sulu, standing up and gathering his tray. "I know they need the help, and Jim's gaming this evening."

"I thought maybe you'd join me in something, Bones?" Jim asked, watching Bones closely. "We've got some old-style soccer games, UK style, set up for later. Thought you might want to play, or stick around to cheer me on."

When Bones wasn't playing as the Assassin with Uhura and Chekov, which wasn't often anymore, he'd found he enjoyed the running sports more than the others.

"Nah," Bones said with a sigh and a shrug, not looking at Jim. "I'll catch up with you at home. You have fun. Just remember to hit the gym later. Nothing you do in those game coffins is _really_ exercise. It's not _really_... anything at all."

Jim frowned as he watched Bones walk away with Sulu.

_That last bit sounded... sad?_

Uhura twisted in her chair a bit to watch them leave, looking concerned. Jim was glad it was just the two of them left. Uhura was Bones's friend. Maybe it was time they had a talk.

"Nyota," Jim said, leaning forward so those leaving the table next to theirs wouldn't overhear. "Is it just me or--"

"Something's wrong," Nyota said with a sigh. "It's been three weeks since we turned over the _Defiant_. Chekov is getting back to his old self, but now something seems to be bothering Len."

"Yeah, I wanted to ask you about it," Jim admitted. "I know you guys are best friends, and I love that you have each other to talk to. I was just wondering if he's said anything to you about it."

Uhura shook her head and gave Jim a small smile.

"No, you actually have that wrong. Jim, _you_ are his best friend. I'm second best, if that."

"Unless it's a problem between him and me," Jim said, looking down into his cup. "If I've done something wrong, he could go to you--"

"He could. And he has. When your body was hijacked, I was there for him. We were there for each other." Uhura shook her head. "But, Jim, has Len ever had a problem laying it all out for you? Putting his cards on the table, or giving you both barrels if he was in a snit?"

"Not usually. No," Jim admitted with a shrug. "He's never lied to me that I know of. And he's never seen me as an authority figure as others do. He's usually had no problem confronting me if I've done something he didn't like. Loudly and persistently. Along with a few glares thrown in for good measure."

"And the reverse is true, I'm sure." Uhura sat back in her chair now that the tables around them were empty. "He's not said a thing about... anything, to me. Not about this mood change. He's just been really quiet. Too quiet."

"I'm not even sure when it started," Jim admitted. "I thought maybe he was still dealing with the memories of what he saw in the _Defiant's_ MedBay. He's never going to forget that. None of us really will. But Bones hasn't been having any bad dreams that I know of. He seems a bit restless, though. Even after... uh..."

Jim stalled then and felt a touch of embarrassment heat his face.

"Sex?" Uhura looked amused at Jim's sudden shyness. "As if I didn't suspect you two of going at it every chance you get. Really, Jim. I'm hardly a virgin myself. Not that I'm interested in the details, but...?"

"Yeah, after sex," Jim said with a crooked smile.

"Is he still in the mood?" Uhura asked. "Or has that slowed down as well?"

"He's interested, if _I_ bring up the issue, so to speak." Jim sighed, turning the empty coffee cup around and around in his hands. "And he seems to enjoy it. But Bones hasn't made his own moves on me in the last few weeks. He still likes to cuddle, and have quiet times together, but it's felt... I don't know. Like his mind keeps drifting off. I've been kind of worried that maybe it's me, and the bloom is off the rose for him. We've been married for over a year now--"

"That's hardly any time at all," Uhura interrupted with a shake of her head. "I don't think it's you, or your relationship. How is your family doing? Is his father okay?"

Jim shrugged. "David is fine, last I heard. Working, dating, and very active. He spends a lot of time with my brother and his family, and a distant cousin of his named John. You haven't met John yet. Sam's family is great. Bones told you about our new niece, who'll be born in a few months?"

Uhura nodded her head.

"Everything's _great_ with them. I think if there was something worrying him about our family, he'd talk to me about it. Not clam up."

"Anything going on in the MedBay?" Uhura asked. "He hasn't mentioned anything to me, but maybe it's something CMO related?"

"Not that he's said. Everything seems to be going well there."

Jim tried to think of other ways that made him feel Bones was off-kilter somehow.

A thought came to him.

"He did get a really _huge_ packet of medical information on a lot of the new species at the start of last week. Of new members. He's been begging for more from Starfleet Medical, but I think the sheer amount of it overwhelmed him for a bit. He's not wanted to play any of the gamepod games for a while. Doesn't want to go to any of the ship's concerts, or take any more of the classes on offer. He's tried several but didn't seem to take to them. I've tried to get him interested in an instrument. He used to play the piano when he was a kid. But he just shrugged off the idea. He's not got much of an appetite. Doesn't seem to stay interested in a vid for very long. Just little things that say he's down and distracted."

Jim put his cup down with a frown. "Maybe _he_ doesn't know what's bothering him. Maybe I should give him a bit more time. But... I don't want to let this go too long or get worse. I'd have to talk to M'Benga about it, and... well... that would make it really awkward for him. To know that a co-worker has been brought in. But better M'Benga than have to go over his head to Starfleet Medical."

"That _would_ be an uncomfortable situation for him," Uhura agreed. "And maybe he doesn't know yet. When he _is_ ready to talk, I'm here for him. But I'm definitely second string on his friendship list, Jim. I do think you'll be the first person he comes to when he's ready."

"Thanks," Jim told her with a smile. He stood and started gathering up his tray. "Let's hope he works it out soon. I know I usually kid Bones that he's a 'glass half empty' kinda guy. But most of that is because he has to be prepared for the worst in his line of work. I don't actually want to see him live his personal life that way. Doctors can burn out fast and hard. I don't want him to be one of them."

"Neither do I," Uhura said as she rose. "I'll let you know if I learn anything."

"Same here," Jim agreed.

_I just hope we won't have to be on the watch for long,_ Jim thought. _But at least I'm not alone._

Just then the wall comm nearest him chirped.

"Bridge to Captain Kirk."

"Well, at least I got dinner first," Jim said to Uhura as he headed toward it.

"Kirk here."

"We have a Federation datapacket," the young communication's officer said. "Top Priority."

"Route it to the Ready Room," Jim ordered. "Page Mr. Spock and request that he join me there."

Jim recycled his tray and headed to the Bridge.

_Well, at least Bones has something to keep him busy tonight. I'll have to let him know I could be late getting home._

_If something big has come up, no telling where we'll be off to next._

 

***

 

 

McCoy followed Sulu to the Biology labs, the waft of humid, chlorophyll scented air hitting him in the face as he stepped past the biofilter into the entryway. Even that small area was filled with potted plants, as was the rest of the lab behind the partition. There were many smaller labs and botanical rooms off this main one, and McCoy knew that they were all jammed packed with either plants or animals, most in terrariums. But many of the plants were happy in pots here and there, as long as the lab lighting gave them what they needed.

_It's almost like a forest in here,_ McCoy thought as he followed Sulu around the various tables and data monitoring stations to the back area.

_Like a zoo. I can see why Sulu loves it here. I'm surprised he didn't follow up on the biological sciences. I guess he always could if he got tired of ship navigation._ _He's lucky to have a hobby he loves that energizes and inspires him. Not everyone has that._

Both he and Sulu entered the Biology locker room and found coveralls to change into. They were one-piece, super absorbent, and had pockets on almost every available spot. Unlike their uniforms, which were made to stay dry, and never had enough pockets because it 'looked better' to the brass. Any drips or spills would remain on the coveralls, which would be left in the Biology labs when they finished. That helped to keep them from tracking anything out to the rest of the ship. The bio-filters at the door would make sure that what was kept in Biology would stay in Biology.

Which meant McCoy could wipe his wet hands on his clothing as much as he wanted.

They wove their way through the plant life to the back rooms. The animal specimens were back in the more enclosed 'Life Sciences' labs, where the areas were less open, and more control was given to housing their passengers in comfort. Several rooms contained shelves of terrariums stacked from the floor to the ceiling. Some terrariums were large. Some were actually aquariums full of sea and water life. Some were desert dry, and most a bit in between. The room they were headed for today had three walls and three rows of shelves in the middle which were covered floor to ceiling with the clear containers. The fourth wall, with the entry door, held a data station and data screens, all focused on various enclosures.

Every movement, every bit of life their tiny passengers experienced was watched, weighed, and measured, both for their comfort and scientific discovery. Sitting at the rooms data station was the new recruit they'd picked up from Starfleet just a few weeks ago. Ensign Tracy Belanty was just out of the Academy and seemed so young. Human and average height, her eyes were a nice hazel, and her long brown hair braided and pinned up to make a crown on her head. McCoy had to remind himself the recruits weren't getting younger. He was getting older.

It seemed like he was reminding himself of that a lot lately.

"Doctor! Lieutenant!" Belanty exclaimed brightly as she stood up to greet them. "I'm so glad you both volunteered to help. We're just so..."

She waved to indicate the whole room.

"Certainly have a full house," McCoy agreed, looking around. He'd helped with one of the other rooms yesterday, mostly insect-like creatures. These were more like small mammals, or a strange mixture of both.

"Glad to help," Sulu said with a smile for the Ensign. "Keeps me out of trouble, this far from home. You have a list of what needs to be done?"

"I sure do," Belanty said as she picked up two PADDs that had been set aside and held them out. "The environmental systems can only do so much automatically. And I've cleaned the enclosures of the more delicate or dangerous species."

McCoy took the nearest PADD and smiled at her. "That includes the incredibly dangerous trimopour?"

Sulu huffed with amusement. "Yeah, that one's gotten me more than once."

"Really?" Belanty asked. "They _do_ look like the fluffiest little Terran kittens, don't they? I've been tempted to--"

" _Don't!_ " McCoy and Sulu exclaimed in unison.

"The bites are a bit unpleasant," Sulu said quickly at the Ensign's startled look. "The fangs wiggle under the skin."

"And are a bitch to remove," McCoy added with a shake of his head. "Sulu and the Captain can both attest to that."

"Duly warned," Belanty said, looking a bit taken aback. "There are some towels over in this box. You'll be dealing with a lot of liquid and algae-like substances that need to be cleaned. The filters get clogged so quickly on some of them. The PADD's have instructions and a vid with directions if I'm not here. Otherwise, just yell for me, and I can tell you how to proceed. I'll be in and out though. In fact, I have a meeting to go to in a few minutes. I may be gone for a bit."

"Yes, Ma'am," Sulu replied, already studying the list on his PADD.

"And I start...?" McCoy asked, giving his list the first look.

"You're..." Belanty leaned over to see which PADD McCoy had taken. "Oh, over in the back corner. Over there."

"Better get started then," McCoy said, turning and heading in the indicated direction.

Sulu headed the other direction, and soon McCoy found himself down a hallway whose walls were all terrariums. All filled with various kinds of life from dozens of different places.

Looking up, he saw his list started at the top and worked its way across the row.

"Good thing we don't need ladders," McCoy said to himself as he accessed the small panel at the back of the row.

He typed in his request, and the whole top row slid toward him, and once it cleared the other terrariums lowered itself down to desk level. He could clean the entire row and send it back up before calling down the next. Many of the tools needed to clean each system were included in shallow drawers underneath. It was a tedious manual job, but it didn't take a lot of deep thought. It was one of the reasons he'd volunteered. Not just to help out, but to try to see what Sulu saw in it.

He'd been trying on bits of other people's hobbies, here and there. Partly out of curiosity, to understand how his friends ticked. Partly because he had come to realize that he was missing something. He liked to do a lot of the things Jim did but didn't enjoy them as he did. McCoy wasn't much for the adrenaline sports. Watching Jim take part in them was enough of an adrenaline rush for him. The gamepods had been fun, for a while, but when he wasn't playing with Nyota and Pavel as the Assassin, which wasn't very often anymore, he found he grew bored with the unreality of it.

Jim had tried to talk him into playing an instrument. McCoy remembered all the piano lessons he'd taken as a kid, and realized he had been a mediocre pupil. He didn't really have any interest in playing anything. Although he did enjoy it when Jim played the guitar.

Nyota liked to sing in the ship's chorus, and study languages and practice self-defense, along with reading some of the ancient Terran classics in literature. McCoy found he had no voice what-so-ever, and didn't have the ear for languages she had. The literature didn't really interest him. And practicing his self-defense skill with Hendorff was work, not play.

He wasn't interested in programming, computers, or chess, the way Spock was. Usually, they'd get into little debates with each other over meaningless things. Which was fun in a strange way, but hardly a hobby.

He hung out with Scotty a few times as he put together a couple of engine prototype model kits that advanced engineers liked to play with. But he'd really only ended up sitting and listening as Scotty jabbered with happy enthusiasm as he tinkered. McCoy and Keenser had exchanged tolerant glances when Scotty got extra excited over some little bit of left-over wire McCoy didn't understand the importance of. Keenser had just silently shrugged it off as a "Scotty" thing, and that had been the extent of his conversation with Keenser.

Pavel liked to gossip, flirt, dress up, and show off in the gamepods, as well as the various board games and tournaments. Which McCoy suspected was from a driving need to fit in. Now that he had almost caught up in age to most of the graduating class at the Academy, he was enjoying the social life. None of which Pavel particularly wanted to share with his friends at the moment, who were all older and mostly paired off. McCoy couldn't blame him, but it did make him feel old.

McCoy already had an 'in' with Sulu, who'd helped him learn how to treat and nurture the bonsai Jim had given him for Christmas. And while he loved the tree to death, and enjoyed puttering with it, it wasn't really all that interactive. In fact, Sulu had warned him that the more he left it alone, the healthier it would be.

Now, volunteering with Sulu to tend to the plants had been interesting for a while, but soon McCoy felt himself growing bored once again.

_At least I'm doing some good,_ McCoy thought to himself after a few hours at work. He'd gone through the first row of terrariums and was halfway down the second.

_Some of these little critters are interesting. Some are actually kind of cute. Like this little Momma._

The little trenwalli was the size and coloring of a field mouse. She lay curled on top of a nest of shredded plant material, a few rounded eggs peeking out from under her. One-third of the terrarium was clay dirt that rose out of the water and was covered by native plants. The water was from Drammonden, and precisely balanced for this species. She had her own little pond and the dry area beside it.

The small creature had six small, black and shiny eye-like nubs in a circle on the front of its head, and two in the back. Not light-sensitive organs, but more an infrared\motion detector combination. It didn't have scales, feathers, or fur so much as a light tan dandelion seed fluff that covered its whole body. Which somehow stayed dry even after it swam in the water searching for food. It had short feelers where a mouse would have whiskers and a pointed muzzle with a round little snout where it vacuumed up various algae-like growths from its native ponds. Oxygen breather, and warm-blooded, it was most active after the native sunset. It had delicate four 'fingered' paws with no thumbs, and could climb short distances.

_Kind of like a Terran mole is cute, in an ugly sort of way. Not that I've ever seen one of those up close. And this one doesn't have the teeth to go with it._

McCoy checked his PADD.

_Says here it's from Drammonden. The planet is warmish, with thick foliage and a rain-forest type of growth pattern. The native children keep these as pets. They have one clutch of pale blue eggs every three years. Has an eidetic-like memory for physical motions, so learns tricks quickly and retains the memory. Food-oriented training._

_Supposed to be the basis for their version of Fantasy Space Dragons in their children's stories. Doesn't look much like a dragon to me, but then again, I haven't seen a Drammonden illustrated edition of those children's books. I suppose every culture must have their mythical beasts._

_Says here this one was supposed to be a solitary male of the species. Someone got that wrong, didn't they little Momma? You're a long way from home._

It was there, in the later notes, when the team who'd transferred her to the Enterprise realized there was a nest and six eggs. McCoy checked the dates on the eggs and the hatching estimate for the species.

"Well, practically any minute now, huh?" McCoy said out loud as he read more of the report. "Won't be by your lonesome much longer. Looks like your young will be in the nest for a few weeks, so we'll have time to rig you up some extra space for when the kids need to leave home."

He checked the readings on the tank. He didn't want to have to scare the little thing out of the nest if he didn't have to.

"We can put off cleaning you up for a few days. That extra algae growth in the corner may come in handy when the little ones hatch and are hungry for breakfast. It's edible."

The trenwalli suddenly darted to the water. He watched her swim around for a moment, ducking into the water and diving down the few inches to the bottom to feed. Then he examined the eggs.

"Wait... five eggs. Did they get that wrong too, or did we misplace one?"

He leaned over the top and squinted down through the transparent material of the container. He didn't see anything. Squatting down beside it so he could see the cross section of the terrarium, he could see an egg in the water.

"Hey! Ensign Belanty?"

"Yes, Doctor?" Belanty answered from her desk hidden down the hallway and around the corner.

"I've got an anomaly here I need to report," McCoy announced.

It took her a few moments, but she came eagerly around the corner.

"Nothing amiss, I hope?"

"I probably shouldn't touch this one," McCoy said. "Those eggs could hatch at any time, and I don't want to scare the Momma. But one of the eggs is in the water. That can't be good."

"Oh? Where?"

McCoy placed his finger on the spot under the waterline.

"Oh, that's not usual, is it? Let me check."

McCoy handed her the PADD. He might understand most of the notes, but she would be able to decipher the abbreviations and statistics he wasn't familiar with.

"Oh," she said with disappointment after pulling up more information on the species. "Apparently it's a bad egg, and the mother has rejected it."

"They're _air_ breathers," McCoy said with concern. "Does that mean she's drowning it by making it hatch under water?"

Belanty scrunched up her face and nodded. "Apparently, they have a complex sense of taste, and the female can tell that the baby is deformed by the taste of the eggshell. It's her way of culling the nibblets."

"What's a nibblet?" Sulu asked, coming toward them, his coveralls showing the same traces of hard work that McCoy's did. "Find something interesting?"

"The hatchlings are called _nibblets_ ," Belanty explained. "We have a bad egg, and the mother's rejected it."

"It'll be fine until it hatches," McCoy complained, feeling bad for the little nibblet. "Then it'll _drown_."

"Oh." Sulu shook his head. He squatted to look at the submerged egg. "That's a shame."

"Well, can't we put it back in the nest?" McCoy asked, growing more anxious for the egg. "Make the mother give it another chance?"

"Won't work, Doctor." Belanty shook her head. "If the mother's rejected it, then it's too sick or deformed to live past hatching. If it even hatches."

"They're not allowed to interfere," Sulu said, watching McCoy closely. "Once it dies we'll dispose of it, so it won't pollute the terrarium when it decays."

"Well, I _don't_ like it."

McCoy didn't realize he'd said it out loud until both Sulu and Belanty looked at him with surprise.

"You're a Doctor," Belanty said with a shrug. "You know how it is with any species trying to survive. You don't divert resources to young who won't survive to reproduce."

"I know that," McCoy said, hoping it didn't come out too snappish. His arms were crossed, and he was frowning. He knew it looked like he was pouting and didn't care.

"Let me run the scanner on it, to be sure," Belanty said.

She punched up several commands on the small console at the corner of the terrarium. After giving the container a minute to scan everything inside, the results lit up the small screen.

"There, see?" Belanty said, pointing to one line on the result. "The DNA is bad. Doesn't even come close to matching the others. Life expectancy is nil once it hatches, either way."

The wall comm chirped in the area behind the shelves.

"Oh, have to get that," Belanty said, making a beeline back to her desk.

"Looks like she'll have a full brood of nibblets you can come back to watch," Sulu said gently. "It's just the way it goes sometimes."

"I'm _not_ a child with a dying pet," McCoy growled, more annoyed at the fact that he suddenly felt like one than with Sulu's tone.

"No, Len, you're not," Sulu said with a shake of his head. He reached over and put a calming hand on McCoy's back. McCoy let him, feeling a bit angry now and knowing he had no real reason for it.

"I didn't mean to talk down to you," Sulu said. "You, out of all of us, have seen more death than anyone around. You don't like it. No reason you should."

McCoy chewed on the corner of his lip.

"I could _take_ it," he said before he even realized he was going to.

"You mean, to MedBay?" Sulu asked. "For autopsy?"

"No, I mean... this isn't classified as a dangerous animal. I have a sealed terrarium at home. It's warm enough."

"Put it with your tree?" Sulu asked, looking skeptical. "It's still going to die."

"Yes. I _know_." McCoy frowned, knowing he really didn't have a good argument to do what he wanted to do. "But it won't _drown_. It's an air breather. No air breather should drown when it's born."

"Yeah...." Sulu drew the word out as if he really wasn't sure if it was okay or not as he studied McCoy. Then he squatted to examine the egg again.

"I guess I can see that. Commander Chinn could sign off on it. It's not on any danger list. The DNA is bad, so even if it lived, it couldn't escape and breed. Couldn't live wild on the ship anyway. Nothing for it to eat."

Sulu stood and shrugged. "Chinn's an easy-going guy. Wouldn't hurt to ask. But you sure Jim will agree to it?"

"Would he have to sign off on it?"

Sulu shrugged. "I don't know _all_ the regs, but probably not. Not if Chinn signs off on it."

"Then let's not bother him," McCoy said, his mind made up. "I'm ready to leave for the day anyway. I'll comm Chinn and see if he'll sign off on letting me walk out the door with it."

"I'm calling it a day as well," Sulu said with a grin, clapping McCoy on the back. "I'll be your wingman with Chinn. But you're on your own with Jim."

For some reason, as they made their way to the front of the room and the door comm, McCoy had a feeling Jim would know about the egg before McCoy even got home with it.

The trenwalli mother and all the other plants and animals weren't the only ones on the ship being watched. McCoy was sure of it. He'd seen some of the others giving him those side glances that said they were concerned about him for some reason.

But he didn't care.

He wanted to take the damned egg home, and it was _his_ tree, _his_ terrarium, in _his_ home.

The others could make of it what they will.

 

***

 

Jim Kirk read the information on his Ready Room computer and scowled. Next to him, Spock was reading the same orders and accompanying information packet.

_And here it started out to be a good day. Another assignment where we're sent in almost blind? Maybe Spock will pick up something I'm not._

"Spock," Jim began, sitting back with a frown. "What do we know about the Meloy's civilization and their systems? They're older members of the Federation but don't participate in politics or management. They're very private, haven't had anyone apply for the Academy, don't serve in any public functions outside their own system, and haven't shared much of their history. Anything you know that's _not_ in the packet?"

Spock tilted his head, thinking. "I'm afraid I am not very familiar with the species. Other than what is included in the packet and some general articles on them from various sources."

"So, an older, space-faring race," Jim said, skimming the data again. "Just over one meter tall. More Keenser's height. Dark grey skin, bi-pedal with two six-digit hands. Oxygen and visual needs match our own, so we won't have any trouble meeting with them. They have three solar systems and five planets in the 'Goldilocks zone.' Lucky there. Peaceful. Explorers and scientists, but they've published very little. On the edge of Federation explored space. They like to travel but aren't really considered social. Mostly they like to study everyone else but not interact. Shyness? Religious objections? Xenophobia? Germaphobia? Not listed as a hive-mind species, where they'd be less likely to interact individually."

"I will do further research," Spock replied with a frown. "But I do know their contributions to any of the Science and Technology groups through Federation channels has been... spotty. They do not seem to adapt to new technologies very well, and much of their own technology would well be considered many years behind ours. There has been some speculation that their civilization, and their numbers, are in a natural decline."

"They've become stagnant?" Jim asked, curious.

"It is a possibility," Spock replied.

Most of the species they came across were still relatively young, compared to the age of their galaxy. He knew that there had been a lot of speculation at the lack of species that could be seen as 'middle aged' in their area. There were some ancient species that they knew about or suspected existed, and then many very young ones. Humans, Vulcans, Klingons, Romulans and a vast host of others were believed to be in their evolutionary toddlerhood by most of the Federation's best minds. Even the few local species who had yet to achieve the criteria for a first contact outnumbered those who represented an age group that was almost non-existent.

Jim knew it was a hotly debated topic with no real answer. One theory was that the "Seeders" or "Preservers" actually destroyed most life in the corner of this universe before planting the earliest stages of humanoid DNA on various planets. Each to evolve to fit a niche on the world chosen. Or that they came behind a quadrant-wide disaster, or war, and reseeded all the dead worlds, to repopulate what was a wasteland. Then they visited the planets and moved or replanted various civilizations. Like a group of botanists that had their own criteria of when to prune, fertilize, and take cuttings to replant. Or that the two were different species, and they were playing a universe-wide game of chess through eternity, with new life as their chess pieces.

Jim could see possibilities in all the arguments and didn't see a point in picking one over the other. No one really knew. Or probably ever would.

"So," Jim continued, "the Meloy's problem is that they were studying a pre-warp culture, had mechanical problems, and one of their crew has been captured by the natives when the observation ship crashed. They want the Federation's help to extract their crewman, without alerting the natives to their existence, or the fact they're being watched and studied."

"Affirmative."

"And we're to get more information from the Meloy representative when we get there?"

"The Meloy have arranged to meet us partway so we may be briefed as to the details," Spock said.

"Then, let's change course, and get there all speed," Jim said. "This cargo can wait to get to the space station."

"I will instruct Lieutenant Rhee to adjust our course," Spock said, rising from his chair.

"Let me know ETA for meeting with the Meloy," Jim said. "I have a feeling this is going to be an interesting story. Especially the one where they tell us how they expect us to help."

Spock nodded before he turned to leave for the bridge, and Jim went back to reading the report.

_Why do I have a feeling that the best part of this story is yet to come?_

 

***

 

When Jim entered their cabin, the lights were dim. Bones was leaning on his elbows on the kitchen counter, looking into the bonsai's open terrarium. He wanted to sigh when he saw how seriously Bones was staring into it.

He still didn't have a clue as to what he should say or do about the egg. If anything.

"You don't have to tiptoe," Bones said without looking at him. "I know you know. Figured either Sulu or Chinn would snitch on me. Or both."

"It _was_ an unusual request," Jim said gently, walking over to stand beside him.

Bones shrugged, still not looking at him.

"Not blaming them or anything. I know it's unusual. And it's not like you weren't going to find out anyway."

Jim copied Bones, leaning down on his elbows on the counter to peer closely into the terrarium. It was built so it would protect the plant inside, give it light and water whenever they were both gone. But the terrarium was made so that it could open up and fold away from the plant for access. Now, the sides and top were open and folded back.

Inside and next to the tree was the tiny egg in a small nest of what looked like shredded medical gauze. It was a pale blue with a mottled, greenish moldy looking spot on one side. Bones had placed it just outside the willow's miniature branches. The tree itself was bright green and healthy looking. Jim knew Sulu was on call if it even started to think about fading or wilting in any way. Jim leaned a bit closer to Bones so that they were touching shoulders.

He didn't say anything. He just looked at the egg and watched Bones's face from the corner of his eye. Lit from the terrarium's light, Bones looked deep in thought.

The silence lasted for a few minutes. Jim knew Bones was waiting for him to comment on the situation. But, honestly, Jim didn't know what would help.

Bones sighed, then shrugged. "I just needed to _do_ something."

"I _think_ I understand," Jim said quietly. "But I'm not sure. We saw a lot of ugliness on the _Defiant_ not too long ago. A lot of needless death. We couldn't be there for them in any way, because we were too late. At least you can be here for this one."

"Yeah, that sounds right," Bones said softly, reaching out to touch the small egg gently. He stroked it then pulled back. "It's what I _can_ do, so I felt the need to do it."

"Bones? Are you okay?" Jim asked gently. "You've been acting a bit depressed and restless lately. If it's anything I've done--"

"I'd tell you to your face," Bones said with certainty, shaking his head. "It's not you. Or us. Or the ship...the job..."

"Do you need to talk to someone," Jim asked bumping Bones's shoulder. "Someone who's not Uhura or me? Chekov seems to be doing well with his therapy. Maybe that'll--"

"I'm not going to say a firm 'no' on that," Bones interrupted with a frown. "But I don't think that I'm depressed, so much as... bored, maybe."

"Bored? In what way?"

Bones was silent for a moment.

"I guess it kinda hit me when I got that huge packet of medical and biological information from Starfleet Medical, last week. I know I'm always bitching about not having enough information. Sitting and looking at the size of the new files, and the documentation... it was great to have, but I felt a bit overwhelmed with it all at once."

Bones paused and frowned.

"While I find it all fascinating, there's just so _much_ study, and it's _work_. It's important. But when I have time off... I seem to go back to it. I guess I'm feeling a little burnt out and need a new hobby. Something to pull me away from all the medical stuff once in a while. Where I don't think of it. And I just can't seem to find anything that excites me anymore."

"You seemed to enjoy the gamepods for a while," Jim said. "Maybe some new programs--"

"No," Bones said quickly. "That was fun for a while. And I'll play with Uhura and Chekov any day. But it's too unreal for me. I like some of them, and enjoy watching you play, but it's like the running games. I like to run, but I'm not _really_ running. It's not _real_ exercise. And when I walk away, I don't have the feeling of having done anything physical. I still have to go and get my workout at the gym. Which makes the gym _really_ boring because in my head I just put in a good kilometer."

"Yeah, I can see that," Jim said. "I guess that's why I like the team sports and competitions. It's not so much about the physical activity as it is the strategic play."

"I guess I just feel the need to be creative," Bones said. He reached out to caress the egg again. "To _create_ instead of _repair_. Keep my hands busy. Build or make something useful or artistic. Something I can look back on and say _'I_ did that. That's how _I_ express myself.'"

"Nothing else on the ship has lit a spark for you, huh?"

"Not so far," Bones admitted, pulling his hand away from the egg. "I'm just okay at some things. Not great at them. And I don't mind learning. But I just haven't found anything I feel like I want to dive into."

"Well, the ship has a whole library of hobby books. We can order _anything_ you want to try, and have it shipped to the Enterprise. We'll find room if we have to."

Bones shrugged.

"I know. I guess I'm just still feeling my way through it all."

"Still the piano," Jim suggested once again. "You had all those lessons as a kid."

"Ruled that out early on. I never enjoyed it that much and dropped it as soon as Ma let me. _You're_ the musician in the family."

"Okay. Keep working on it and let me know how I can help."

Jim found himself reaching out to touch the tiny egg himself. It felt a little rubbery, and not as fragile as a Terran chicken egg.

"So, the search goes on. As for this little one..." Bones continued, standing up. "If she only gets a few seconds of life, then it'd be nice to think that they're peaceful seconds."

_It **is** sad,_ Jim thought. _No new life should be rejected by its mother. But Mother Nature is savage. Survival of any species comes at a price. I just wish he wasn't exposed to the dead and dying so much. But that's part of his job. He just needs to find a way to escape it once in a while. Something that suits him. Maybe the rest of us can brainstorm and help him along._

Jim turned to him. "In the meantime, you may be busy again soon. We've been sidetracked from our delivery mission."

"New marching orders? I figured."

"We're to head into Meloy space, meet with them and help them recover a stranded pilot."

"Meloy?" Bones asked with surprise. "Aren't they those little gray guys that look like--"

"The _'Little Green Men'_ from old Earth history," Jim agreed with a smile. "Only, _not_ green."

"I remember all the debates after class at the Academy, after the Xenoarchaeology classes," Bones said with an amused smile. "Funny how they look like the Martians, or aliens, in North American folklore about UFO's and flying saucers."

Jim chuckled. "I remember it too. Hard to make a case _against_ them being responsible in some way, since their short-range craft are actually shaped like --"

" _Saucers_ ," Bones said with a shake of his head. "I know our instructor wasn't as entertained by the debates as we were, since the Meloy always deny it. But still, if it walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck..."

"Then it's probably not a tribble," Jim said. "If they've lost a ship and pilot, then we'll have to get better specs on the design out of them if we're going to be trying to recover pieces of it from a pre-warp species."

"And hopefully the pilot's in one piece. Any idea why they've asked for our help?" Bones asked. "Why they just don't go in and retrieve the pilot and debris themselves? They have transporter tech, don't they? They can't just beam him up?"

"No real information yet," Jim said. "We're headed their way at warp seven. We should catch up with their envoy late tomorrow afternoon. They'll brief us in depth then."

"Then I'll start catching up on the Meloy biological and medical information I have on hand. See if Starfleet Medical has any updates on their files. Their pilot may need medical care when we find him or her."

Bones reached out and pulled the terrarium back into place, sealing it up.

"I'll set the terrarium to signal me if anything moves tonight. It could hatch soon, or it could be days yet. It's not like the others of its species, so no real way to tell for sure. No use in staying up. It's as comfortable as it's going to get."

"At least it won't be able to get out," Jim said, "since this is the same type of terrarium they use in Biology. You sure it won't hurt your willow?"

"It wouldn't recognize the tree as food," Bones said, punching in instructions on the terrarium's control pad. "And according to the DNA readings for the species, it won't last long once it hatches."

Jim put his hand on Bones's back, rubbing it.

"Wake me if it wakes you up."

Bones turned to Jim with a fond look. "You don't have to."

"Want to," Jim said with certainty. "Let's go to bed. Maybe I can wear you out so you can sleep. Tomorrow we may be kept busy."

Bones turned away from the terrarium and lent over to give Jim a kiss.

"Sounds good to me."

Bones turned to head for the bedroom.

Jim followed, giving one last glance to the now dark terrarium, the egg, and the willow with the little dark-haired porcelain boy at its trunk.

_Not a bad way to go, I guess, if that's the hand you're dealt in this game._

_Sometimes, you just can't beat the odds._  

 

***

 

 

McCoy knew he was coming out of a dream as he swam.

It was one of those strange ones where he was floating deep under water in some dark, black, alien sea. It wasn't a solid black, but had shimmers of light here and there, as the various shades of darkness folded and churned upon itself, like a tide moving in and out. Species that looked like something he should recognize, but didn't, swam lazily around him. Others were so wild in design and movement that they could only be from his imagination. None of them could see him, but he could see and study them as he chose. There were so many! And they were all glorious and beautiful.

This ocean was the mother of creation. She spawned the first life that ever drew breath, and the last life that there would ever be. She was infinite in a way he could not understand, but that didn't bother him in his dream. He was as much a part of this group of life as any other being. He belonged here, just as all the others did.

He knew it was a dream because he could breathe the liquid, there was no crushing pressure around him, and the water was such a perfect temperature that he couldn't really feel it. It was a nice dream. Beautiful and serene. But strange. He wasn't really a water person.

Slowly the sea faded and left just the darkness of his familiar bedroom around him. The air vents making that white noise he really didn't hear anymore, but that now reminded him of the swish of ocean waters.

As the bulk of his dream drifted off, he felt the sheets cradle him. The solid warmth of Jim's body beside him filling his heart with the memory of the love they'd shared just hours ago. Jim's deep, heavy breathing in the dark a welcomed sound. All was well in their world.

He was relaxed. Warm and comfortable. Safe in a way he didn't always feel.

He was at peace. Exactly where he should be.

He was almost too content to even think. Wasn't sure he wanted to.

_That was nice. Do I have to wake up?_

Then he realized he must not really be fully awake. In the distance, a bit of light still lingered from the ocean dream. As he blinked his eyes, a small but bright speck grew closer. It was a soft light, yellowish white and warm. It was tiny at first and grew a bit bigger as it fluttered closer.

_Caterpillar. Butterfly. Both._

It looked soft and fuzzy as it drew closer. Barely the width of his finger, and maybe half as long. When it got closer, he could see a flutter of color on both sides. Like the beat of transparent wings, it had confetti-like dots of translucent color that flowed like a ripple of air.

He blinked, not really wanting to wake up and lose this bit of the dream.

It flew up near his face. It was even prettier up close.

**_[protector, mother?]_ **

It was a question that came from nowhere and wasn't really in words. It was more a feeling, a shared emotion that McCoy could understand. McCoy's sleepy mind knew it was from the little bit of fluffy light in front of him. He chuckled and drowsily raised a hand toward it.

_Will a papa do?_

The little caterpillar-butterfly danced a bit, and McCoy knew it was happy. They'd seemed to have struck some deal between them. That was okay. He liked the idea.

_Tinker Bell._

_Bell._

The newly christened bit of life danced happily in the darkness, then suddenly was gone. The room was now dark, but with that dancing spot of light still on his retinas. He reached up and rubbed his face sleepily.

_Nice dream. Why can't they all be like that?_

He rolled over toward Jim, who hadn't stirred. He snuggled closer and curled up beside him, hand on Jim's arm.

He slipped back into sleep, wondering if he could find that ocean again.

 

***

 

"Bones, you have to be serious about this," Jim warned quietly as he stood just inside the Docking Bay. Bones and Spock on either side. The Meloy ship had just touched down and was getting situated so the Meloy Ambassador and his group could disembark. It would take a few minutes, and while they waited, Jim saw Bones's  amused smile as he watched the ship enter the Bay. The Meloy did not like to transport, so letting them dock was part of being respectful.

"I'm serious," Bones protested light-heartedly to Jim. "I can't help it if the Meloy's ship brings up a lot of old Academy debates to mind. Don't tell me the thought of UFO's, missing time, and anal probes didn't flash across yours too. I'll bet it crossed Spock's mind as well."

Jim was loathed to admit it had. The saucer-shaped ship was big enough that it almost didn't fit inside the Enterprise. A few of the Enterprise's own shuttles that were kept _on-ready_ had to be moved back to storage to make room. If a person was the size of the Meloy, the ship would be considered quite roomy for a small crew. It had a dull, dark gray matt finish when it wasn't lit up like a chameleon, and no ports. It did look like the historical version of a UFO. It moved like a UFO. It contained small, spindly, gray beings like the fabled UFO pilots Jim had heard of at the Academy.

"Doctor," Spock said, also keeping his voice low, "the Meloy have denied any and all suggestions or accusations that they have, at any time, visited Earth in its history."

"Are you suggesting they _can't_ be lying about that?" Bones asked.

"I am not suggesting that they would be incapable of it," Spock said dryly. "Just that we have, so far, no reason to believe they would do so. The Federation's official stance is that they are truthful."

"And how do we know _they_ even know?" Bones asked with a shrug. "It was hundreds of years ago. Maybe their own people didn't document their visits to Earth. Maybe their leaders decided to bury the information once First Contact was made with us. We've got ships _all over_ the quadrant, and we're not told everything _they're_ getting into."

"While it is always a possibility," Spock admitted. "I do not see the need for useless speculation."

"But it _did_ cross your mind, didn't it?" Bones asked. Jim saw him throw an amused side glance at Spock.

Jim caught Spock's hesitation. He knew Bones did as well.

_Busted,_ Jim thought. He tried to keep the small smile off his face but failed.

"Doctor, I have had numerous thoughts about the Meloy since reading our orders and the accompanying datapacket. Including my recent research into the public and Federation databases on them. Since many of the discussions about the rumors have been published, I have had no recourse but to have the idea _'cross my mind'_ , so to speak," Spock said with a satisfied tone.

_Good save. Blame it on research. I'd buy it if I didn't know him better. And if I hadn't been there when we talked about it ourselves._

Bones, arms crossed, just shook his head. "Well, I'm not convinced they're not fibbing about that. I tell you what, though. They come at me with any sort of anal probe, and I'm running for cover."

"Doctor," Spock said, giving Bones a pointed look and a raised eyebrow, "I can admit to sharing that same feeling, on _many_ occasions, while on the Enterprise."

Jim had to cough into his fist to hide his sudden burst of laughter at the annoyed frown and raised eyebrow Bones threw back at Spock. Jim decided he'd better end this before it got really good.

"On _duty_ now, gentlemen," Jim warned as the ramp from the Meloy ship was lowered, and the Ambassador and his two companions could be seen at the opening, waiting to disembark.

Now that the Meloy representatives had stepped down from their landing ramp, all dressed in tight, dark clothing, Jim had to make sure they felt welcomed. Of the three Meloy, two looked so similar to Jim that he was glad of the tiny insignia on their uniforms. The third seemed to be elderly, his skin sagging around his eyes, and white veins showing here and there as if he had patches of white hair. From Bones's library records, Jim recognized the signs of great age for the species. And he already knew they were all male. Female Meloy were said to never leave the homeworld.

"Ambassador Trink, welcome aboard," Jim said in Federation Standard.

"Thank you, Captain Kirk," the lead Meloy, Ambassador Trink, said in a light, reedy voice. He gave a slight bow rather than offer his hand.

Introductions were made, which included the Head of their Cultural Studies, Abet, and Leen, the elder, who was Head of their Science Division.

"Since this is a pressing matter, may we present our information immediately?" Trink asked.

"Absolutely, Ambassador. I understand the need for a quick recovery mission," Jim said. "Please be assured we are now on our way to the specified location at top speed, even as you debrief us on the situation."

Ambassador Trink nodded. "Thank you. Let us proceed."

"This way, please." Jim indicated the direction of the meeting room they had readied for their guests.

They settled into the meeting room, where the Meloy were offered chairs that fit their stature at the lowered table. Jim, Bones, and Spock sat on pillow-like stools on the other side. Leen caught Jim's eye as they sat, and he subtly nodded his thanks at the gesture. Jim didn't think that Leen moved as well as the other two.

_Age may sometimes have its privileges, but that's counted by its aches and pains as well. For everyone it seems._

Once settled, Trink got to the point.

"Captain, we need your help rescuing one of our scientists, who was piloting a survey craft," Trink began. "Because of the situation, we can't scan for him, nor can the Federation's transporter technology be used to beam him or the damaged ship out of danger. We find ourselves... unable to go to his rescue."

"I understand time will be of the essence, not only to save your pilot," Jim said. "But I'm afraid we will need much more information if you want us to be able to put our best effort into it. What kind of pre-warp civilization are we talking about? How primitive? What's keeping your people from scanning the area?"

Trink nodded with a small frown. "I understand, gentlemen. Unfortunately, this is a very delicate matter and--"

"Oh, _damn_ it," Leen burst out from beside Trink. "We don't have _time_ for this."

The other two Meloy startled and gave Leen savage glares. Then all hell broke out on that side of the table as the two younger Meloy seemed to berate the older loudly, in their native language.

_Should have had Uhura here!_ Jim thought with regret. _We'll have missed some interesting stuff if they all clam up now!_

"Gentlemen!" Jim interrupted, hands up in appeal. "Please! We need all the time we can get to prepare for this rescue. We need _all_ the information you can give us."

Ambassador Trink and Abet stopped yelling but sat glaring at Leen angrily as they hissed at him. Leen hissed back.

Jim glanced at both Spock and Bones, who were sitting on either side of him. For once, both had the same expression, one eyebrow up and a look of surprise and extreme interest on their faces at the sudden emotional outburst from the Meloy.

_Well, they were surprised as well. None of us knows what the hell's going on._

"Please?" Jim asked again, a bit louder this time.

The two younger Meloy quit hissing at the older one, and they seemed to settle back angrily. Eyes on the table and their mouths clamped shut.

Leen turned to look at the three Enterprise crewmen, a look of victory in his eyes.

"Captain, I'm sorry about that. But I outrank both of these idiots on age alone, and we've been arguing all the way here," Leen began with a tired sigh. "There are too many lives at stake to sit on our precious secrets and keep you all in the dark. If I leave it to these two, they'll hem and haw and follow our council's orders, and it'll just all get fucked up."

"I would greatly appreciate your candor in the situation," Jim said agreeably.

Leen sat back and crossed his arms. The other two stared at the table and refused to look at anyone.

"Captain," Leen started. "About three standard months ago we discovered an uninhabited planet in unexplored territory. Not dead, but not able yet to support intelligent life. Probably not for tens of thousands of years, anyway, at a natural pace of plant evolution. Maybe several hundred if terraformed."

"Uninhabited?" Jim asked with confusion. "I thought this dealt with a pre-warp culture?"

"It does," Leen said with a sigh. "We _thought_ it was lifeless. The problem was, we couldn't get a look at a large section of the underground geography. There's some sort of scan blocker we'd never seen before. Curious, we poked around here and there. Took us weeks, but we found some caverns that ran deep into the area. Better than blasting down to it, which we were reluctant to do, not knowing what the hell was inside. Only we discovered they weren't natural caverns, and the blank spot was a huge, perfect bubble. _Six_ klicks underground."

"A perfectly round bubble in any tectonic plate would be highly unusual," Spock said, clearly intrigued. "How large is the anomaly?"

"The land mass at the diameter is almost 6,500 kilometers," Leen said.

Jim felt his own eyebrows go up, "That's the size of a large island."

"An island?" Bones asked.

"Yes, Doctor," Spock replied. "Almost the same land mass as the main island of Hawaii, on Earth."

"Oh," Bones said, looking surprised as well. "That's a _hell_ of a bubble."

"Clearly _not_ natural, especially with the shielding in place," Leen agreed. "We were able to get inside the alien shield, and... well... to say we were a tad surprised at what we found inside would put it mildly."

"Which was?" Jim asked, finding himself leaning forward with curiosity.

"Inside, there was a complete and complex, oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere, _different_ than what is on the surface. What the Federation would categorize as a Class M environment. And at the exact center of the unscannable bubble, was a flat landmass. With people. Human, _Terran_ people."

"A city!" Abet interjected, now showing a bit of excitement at the subject. "Surrounded by a farming community. All seemingly self-contained, although _very_ primitive, with simulated day and night cycles. And the weather!"

" _Humans_? A Human _city_? Are you sure?" Bones asked with surprise. "Or are they just _humanoid_? There are a lot of offshoots and variations --"

"Believe me, we've checked all the DNA records the Federation offers on Terrans, specifically from Earth," Leen said with a shake of his head. "Six kilometers under the planet's surface is an entirely functional ecosystem. City. Farms. Livestock. Forests. A central light and power source that provides light, warmth, and the accompanying UV rays that would match those of the Terran sun. Underneath the surface seems to be some sort of recycling system, with oxygen production and distribution. We suspect a vast complex of support tech under the surface of the landmass, which is hidden inside the bubble's field. But we don't know what's down underneath, or how to get down there."

"An active culture?" Jim asked, feeling surprised, but hugely interested.

"Not at first," Abet said. "Everything was in place, but non-functional. We saw what looked like remnants of a dead civilization. Plants, but no intelligent life or animals, at first inspection. Buildings, but no people."

"Yes," Leen agreed. "It had the appearance of having been abandoned. A few days after our original entry into the bubble, we suddenly got strange energy readings. We evacuated and held back until it seemed to stabilize."

"On re-entering the space," Abet added, "there suddenly were living humans going about their business! A whole culture, working, farming the fields, filling the city. Cattle and other livestock had appeared on open fields. The power and light source started to move across the dome, clouds formed."

"Our presence seems to have started some kind of process in motion," Ambassador Trink said grimly. "We had planned to investigate further, but now we must hold back."

"In case the inhabitants realize we're watching them," Abet said. "The culture is clearly primitive, the technology elementary and destructive to the environment. They use _petrol_ for their engines!"

"Which, of course, is damaging to their ecosphere," Leen said with a grimace. "We have been able to collect some of the waste product that they've accumulated since their emergence. From all we can glean from it and from what we can observe, they clearly do not meet the First Contact guidelines for a culture's technical ranking, as set out by the Federation."

"They are probably many generations away from the required level," Abet agreed. "Premature contact could be devastating for them."

"Do you believe the inhabitants were in suspended animation until your arrival?" Spock asked.

"If so, how long do you think they were suspended?" Bones asked eagerly. "Could you tell what kind of system was used?"

"How do they handle waste and power?" Spock asked.

"Could they have been trying to outlive a natural disaster?" Jim asked. "Taken refuge underground?"

"All _good_ questions," Leen interrupted, holding up his hands for quiet. "But while the planet surface is slowly evolving a compatible ecology for the Humans, there is no sign that it was ever habitable to start with. We know very little about them, or why they're there."

"What _do_ you know?" Jim asked.

All three Meloy glanced at each other. Ambassador Trink, still clearly angry, nodded at Leen and said, "It's on _your_ head now."

"We have evidence of where they are from," Leen said, watching the three Enterprise crew closely. "And of who they are. Captain, may I ask a personal question?"

Taken aback by the sudden change of subject, Jim sat back and blinked.

"Uh. Sure?"

"You are Terran, from Iowa, located in North America, country of the United States, on Earth, am I correct?" Leen asked, his eyes sharp on Jim. "We have gleaned so from information in various databanks about you."

"I was born in space, but raised in Iowa," Jim replied, getting a weird feeling about where this was going.

"Your family was native to Iowa?"

"Back to early history I think," Jim said. "Well before the Eugenics Wars. Maybe a hundred years before that."

Leen nodded. "Then this may be hard for you to believe, but our evidence suggests that these Humans are not only Terrans by birth, but that they are from the Northern Americas. Specifically, Printsville, near Fort Abernathy, Iowa."

" _What_?" Jim asked, confused. He turned to both sides to look at Spock and Bones to see if it made any sense to them. It didn't look like it. He turned back to the Meloy.

"First, I've never heard of a ' _Printsville_ ' or a _'Fort Abernathy'_ in Iowa. And I've been _all over_ Iowa, not just grew up there. So why would you think that these people are from _there,_ if that city had even existed?"

"Because," Ambassador Trink said with a defeated sigh, "that's where _they_ think _they_ are. Now."

"Specifically," Abet said, holding up his small hand for attention, "They think they're living in _Printsville_ , next to _Fort Abernathy_ , in _Iowa_ , in the _United States_ , on _Earth_. And the date as of 'today,' for them, is June 16th, 1942."

"Six months," a visibly surprised Spock added, "after the bombing of Pearl Harbor by the Japanese. And the beginning of the United States' entry into World War Two."

Jim just sat there for a moment, speechless. Thousands of impossible scenarios running through his mind.

" _How_...?" Jim trailed off, not even beginning to know what to ask first.

Leen just raised his hands and shrugged his shoulders. "Got me."

 

 


	2. Two

    

  

*** 

 

Five sets of eyes scanned the dark forest, one set of them Jim's. It was early morning, artificial dawn only an hour or so away. But dark from a new moon. The Earth's sun and moon cycles had been duplicated precisely, even down to a single, bare, uninhabited moon and the flicker of stars uncrowded by the light of space stations and passing ships. Definitely not the night sky Jim had grown up with.

_This kind of re-creation is light years beyond us. To move a whole city here, from Earth, and not even have us suspect? I've never even heard a hint of Printsville or Fort Abernathy. How many millions of loose ends, missing relatives, missing resources, did they have to tie up to make so many people disappear? I know the Federation Historical researchers will be combing all of Earth's records for years trying to find even a hint of their existence. Follow up on any names and identities we come back with. But even that may not give us many clues._

_Assuming, of course, that this isn't some strange trap, and they're the bait. Or are faked in some way, as well as their environment._

_But if this is all true, and these really are Earth-born people, why them? Why this city? Are there others we don't know about? Is it still happening? Was this even the Preservers?_

He hoped he could find some answers, but feared he would just discover more questions.

The small Meloy craft, changing color to match its surroundings, had touched down in an open area, away from the main road and behind tree cover. Through the forest was a dirt road that they would follow to get to the paved highway. One that ran straight into the city from the ring of mountains.

"Wait up, Jim!" Bones called softly. "We need your light."

"Sorry," Jim said, realizing he had gotten ahead of the other four. Bones, Sulu, Uhura, and Lieutenant Marla McGivers weren't too far behind, their flashlight beams weaving back and forth across the ground as they picked their way through the plant-tangled, forest floor.

Lieutenant McGivers, a young, red-haired Human, was the ship's official Historian, Data-Processor, and Librarian. Her fascination with Earth history and its various wars had come in handy when she had presented them with a short crash course on the United States in 1942. If it hadn't been for her expertise, Jim would have had a lot more misgivings about the composition of their reconnaissance/rescue team.

There had been some debate on having Uhura and Sulu amongst the team. McGivers had warned them how the rampant and deep-seated racism of the time, coupled by the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor, could mean that Uhura, and especially Sulu, could be targeted for misplaced anger and frustration. But the newspapers and the radio broadcasts coming from the area showed that there were segregated pockets of both minorities in the city, and both Sulu and Uhura argued that if they were going to find out what was going on, who these people were, and how they got there, they'd need information from _all_ sources.

McGivers had agreed that they could most likely handle the situations they found themselves in, which eased Jim's mind a bit. Uhura was invaluable with her communication and interpretation skills. And Sulu almost as good with combustion engines and minor tech as Scotty. And since they needed a look at the whole picture, they could meet and talk with people who wouldn't trust Jim, Bones, or McGivers because of their skin color, and vice versa. But much to Spock's annoyance, it had been decided that having a Vulcan try to blend in was pushing it a bit much.

And what tech they were taking with them was limited. The Meloy would have a ship, camouflaged against the sky and clouds, listening for news and orders. They all wore dial watches whose faces hid features that would allow them to talk to each other or text in an emergency. Bones had found a way to hide his Medkit in a way the natives wouldn't notice. At least, not right off. Mostly, though, they all had just the replicated clothing, fake ID's, and counterfeit currency to make do with.

While dressed in clothing synthesized by the Quartermaster to match 1942's history, they weren't exactly equipped for a hike through a pitch-black forest. Uhura and Lieutenant McGivers were in knee-length dresses and square-heeled shoes, wearing short jackets while carrying a suitcase. Their hair was pulled up in a braided hair covering, called a 'snood', for travel.

Jim, Bones, and Sulu were dressed a bit better for the dark woods, in high waisted slacks, belts, leather shoes, sports shirts, and jackets. Their better clothing tucked safely away in their suitcases. All had their hair cut short on the sides and longer on top, with an off-center part and it slicked back from their face. Jim's all dyed to match. They all had fedora hats for when they got to the city.

He didn't envy the women trying to make their way by flashlight through the woods in those chunky shoes. These woods were just as filled with thorny plants, roots, small bushes, and clumps of vines that could easily be tripped over as was the real thing on Earth. There were even some low tree limbs to walk into if their lights didn't catch them in time.

Especially since Jim had ordered them all to keep the lights trained on the ground so that no one in the distance would see them moving. He was starting to re-think that idea after he got a sudden branch in the face.

"Ow," lieutenant Marla McGivers said from beside him. "I think I stepped in something. These shoes..."

Suddenly, one of the flashlights flickered and went off. A pained 'ooof' filled the darkness as a body hit the forest floor. Four flashlights were immediately on Bones and the suitcase he'd dropped.

"Bones? You okay?" Jim went to help Bones up, who was already pushing to his feet and looking sheepish in the dim lights trained on him.

"Tripped on something," Bones hissed. "These damned shoes don't fit! Why isn't my light working?"

Sulu bent over to pick up the dropped flashlight. He shook it for a moment, and the light came back on.

"Guess the batteries weren't connecting right."

"Mine's broken?" Bones asked. He brushed the dirt off his knees and elbows. "What are _batteries_? Damned ancient tech!"

"Internal power source," Jim answered calmly. "I believe they wear out if used too long, and have to be replaced?"

"They do," Sulu confirmed. "We'll have to be careful not to use them up before dawn. We're not carrying replacement batteries. And these are the real deal, not replicated."

"Digging through a landfill," Bones said with a grimace as he took his flashlight back. "Isn't that what that old phrase 'dumpster diving' means? That it was already broken when we got it?"

"Garbage archeology," Jim added with a shake of his head. "Just be glad the Meloy have already been doing it for a while, or we'd have had to. We'll have to learn to make use of what's local. But let's keep it down until we get to the road."

The rest of the walk to the dirt road went reasonably quietly. There was no fence on this side they'd have to climb over. But there was a barbed wire fence separating the road from the field on the other side. This was clearly a service road for the farmer, and not meant as a thoroughfare. It wasn't all dirt, but mostly ground-in gravel with clumps of grass. Tire tracks led to the main road, still a bit of a walk away. In the distance, he thought he heard a few cars passing. There wasn't much traffic out here, but there was some.

If they were lucky, maybe some, or all, of them could get a ride. They didn't have to arrive together. They'd already planned to split up.

"That way," Jim said flashing his light down the road. "We'll walk to the main road. Try to hitch a ride. I think it's safe to talk since no one saw us come out of the forest and the Meloy's ship is back up in the 'atmosphere.' We can say our bus broke down coming into town and we got turned around on this road."

"What happened to the bus?" Bones asked curiously. "If they go looking for it?"

"Got fixed and drove away without us," Jim said with a shrug.

"You've muddied your knees," Uhura said with a sigh as her light flicked over to Bones, then down over his knees. "You'll have to figure out how to get them clean once you get settled."

"How do I do that?" Bones asked with annoyance, bending over to wipe at the mud marring his clothing. "I only have two pairs of pants!"

" _Trousers_ ," McGivers corrected lightly. "When you find a place to stay, you can ask your landlord. Clothing washers are electric now. But some places may still hang wet wash outside on lines if they haven't updated to tumble dryers. It'll need to be ironed. There might be some ladies who take in washing for the single men in your building. Or the landlady might if you get a rental room in a house."

"Don't forget to budget," Jim warned as he started walking down the road. "It'll be a pain to have to arrange a money drop. I don't want anyone trying to smuggle stuff to us if we can avoid it. So, live within your means."

"Oh, joy..." Bones muttered, walking behind Jim. "At least these people we're spying on are human. And normal sized. But their clothing manufacturing is awful. None of this outfit really fits me."

"They're off-the-rack sizes," McGivers explained, tugging at her own skirt. Or maybe at the garter belt underneath. "We don't want our laundry to trip anyone up. Since we don't know how long we'll be here, we need to fit in as much as possible."

"It _is_ annoying," Sulu said. "I guess I didn't realize how important good tailoring was to comfort."

"Join the club," Uhura said with a groan, stopping to shake a stone out of her shoe. " _You_ don't have to wear a skirt _and_ these heels. And if I damage these hose, I'm going to be pissed. I don't know how to fix them."

"You can't," McGivers said cheerfully, clearly enjoying the situation more than the rest of them. "Even if we can find them, we may not want to spend the money on new pairs. We can paint hose on our legs once these wear out. Or wear your Victory suit, with the slacks. With the war effort on, many things will be rationed, including nylon. Remember, the natives are getting used to a huge change in their lifestyle as well. The war changed US culture almost overnight. They may not notice our blunders so much if we keep them small."

"Paint on pantyhose?" Jim asked with curiosity.

"Makeup and eyebrow pencil," McGivers said. "To recreate the look of the hose and back seam."

"Oh," Jim said, shaking his head. "And there I was worried about just shaving every day with that straight razor."

"Baby guillotines, with handles," Bones said with a huff. "I've only seen someone giving stitches _once,_ people. Don't make me test out my sewing skills on any of you."

"Thank goodness for long-term hair inhibitors," Uhura said with a sigh. "I won't have to worry about slicing myself up."

"With the men, though, people might notice if their faces look too smooth for too long," McGivers said with a shrug. "So, they need to grow that five-o'clock shadow. Better safe than sorry, guys."

They walked down the road for a bit, the five dim beams from the flashlights picking out their paths. The sound of crickets and other nighttime animals filled the air around them as they each wove their way around clumps of grass and avoided the occasional pothole.

At the sound of a loud, low moan in the distance, Sulu swung his flashlight up.

"What was that?" Sulu asked anxiously.

"That was a _cow_ , City Boy," Bones said with amusement. "They're not known to attack humans. Must be a barn back there. They're not usually left out at night."

"Not _known_ to, but _can_?" Sulu asked with a bit of concern, lowering his light.

"We're safe," Jim said with a chuckle. "We eat _them_ , not the other way around."

"A cow?" Uhura asked curiously. "Is there _anything_ in this enclosure that _isn't_ from Earth? Birds? Insects?"

"Not that the Meloy have found so far," Kirk said, turning back to picking his way down the road. "The Biology lab on the ship is still going over the data the Meloy have collected, and should have more information by the time we get back. So far, it seems to be an astonishingly complete eco-system."

"Only as long as the mechanism that runs this terrarium stays operative," Bones added, sounding concerned. "If the locals have started a garbage dump, then they're not recycling very well. An enclosed system _depends_ on recycling. The world outside can't support this type of life. What do they do if they run out of manufactured resources? Paper? Rubber? Gas? Medicines? Food?"

"The Meloy said that trucks come and go from tunnels in the mountain ring around the edges of the landmass," Jim said with a wry smile. "I can guarantee you those mountains are _not_ stolen or copied from Iowan geography. Those mountains are more like cliffs, and are steep enough to be unclimbable for most with 1940's technology, so the only way out for the residents is those tunnels. They must lead to that unscannable area underneath."

"So, they're being supplied from underground stores?" Sulu asked. "I wonder how long that can last? Spock said in a few hundred years the surface might be able to support a colony, but only if our current technology was used to terraform it. Otherwise, _thousands_ of years."

"The Meloy must have triggered something that wasn't supposed to happen yet," Uhura theorized. "Otherwise, why not just terraform the surface instead of placing them down here? But the people... don't even know they're living in an underground dome? With a war going on, wouldn't they notice fairly quickly? How can they not already realize that they're cut off from everyone else? The whole world?"

"From the information the Meloy have given us--" Jim began.

"Most of it unwillingly," Bones grumbled.

"The population doesn't seem inclined to travel to the edges, where the mountains are," Jim continued. "And they're hearing radio signals from the era, generated from the dome. Getting news that happened hundreds of years ago. But I'm thinking that there's more going on to keep them believing that they're still on Earth."

"Mind control," Bones added grimly. "Subliminal training. Somehow, preparing them for the ultimate revelation of the truth, either in this or a future generation. Eighty thousand people, of various races, is a great start for a colony's breeding stock. Unless they go insane with fear and start killing each other."

"And what about the seasons?" Uhura asked. "Will winter ever come?"

"Wouldn't make sense if it does," Sulu said with a shake of his head. "Shut down their farming and food production?"

"Not unless they've got stores underground that'll take them through those times," Bones added. "Along with all that material for new clothing, car parts, medical supplies, and flashlight batteries."

"Maybe they're not being _allowed_ to wonder about all the differences," McGivers said. "At least, not yet. It'd be too much of a culture shock. Considering they think their country has just been attacked and is at war, they're already leading different lives than they did last year. Analyzing the radio news they're getting, as compared to the transcripts and recordings we have of the actual events, may tell us how they're being manipulated."

"We're having the Meloy send up every bit of information the city thinks they're getting from the 'outside', to the Enterprise," Jim assured her. "And they're sending it on to the Federation's best think-tanks. This whole situation could get ugly, and we'll need to step in if it's clear that the Meloy set off the end program too early."

"Which is another reason the Meloy called the Federation for help," Bones said, his voice holding a grim tone. "If these people aren't left with resources to last 10,000 years, or have any way to acclimate to the idea of living off of Earth, underground, on an alien planet, there could be a slaughter. And not just for resources. You've got a local, armed military and a captured populace. Some military brass could declare martial law and set themselves up as King. It's not like the rest have anywhere to escape to. I don't think it's right to leave them to that."

"Not to mention needing an answer to the biggest questions," Sulu added. "How did they get here? _Who_ did this?"

"The Preservers?" Uhura asked quietly.

"That's the current theory," Jim agreed. "And what we'll call them, for convenience's sake. If so, I think this is the first time we've ever seen replanting of a populace in action. We've only ever seen the end result and had theories. Guesses."

"Someone came to Earth, in the 1940s, and _scooped out_ a whole city that doesn't show up in our records anymore. Then plops it down _here_ , without the people realizing it," Bones said softly. "That's _scary_."

They walked in silence for a while. Jim dropped back to walk with Bones, letting Sulu, Uhura, and McGivers get a bit ahead.

"You ready for this?" Jim asked quietly.

"As much as I can be," Bones said with a small shrug. "These people need help, and I'm all for that. I'm a bit scared at what that hospital's going to be like if I get a job there. And I already miss my wedding ring. I'll miss _you_."

"Yeah," Jim said with a sigh. "Same here. But it's not like same-sex couples are the norm in this timeframe. And even if they were, we'll still gather information faster separately. If another group has to come in, maybe we can set something up for long-term study from inside. But our priority has to be getting the Meloy pilot out and destroying their craft. Then there'll be one less mess to clean up for these people."

"I have a feeling McGivers would volunteer to stay a while," Bones said with amusement. "Can't blame her for her enthusiasm. This is a latinum mine for her."

Jim's mind started going over all their plans and preparations for this assignment. They'd had to rush to get everything ready and in place, wanting to go into action as soon as the Enterprise arrived.

The planet had a numerical designation now. Jim wondered what name the planet, and it's three small moons, would ultimately get. He hoped that the inhabitants would get that privilege over the crew of the Federation's long-term science vessel. One was now being outfitted to join the Meloy's mother ship for long-term orbit over this planet. Nothing about this situation was going to be short term, for anyone. All Jim could hope to do was to get the Meloy pilot rescued, destroy all or parts of the tech that was his ship, and then back off and let the Federation and the Meloy study the situation. For as long as it took to know for certain that this populace was out of danger.

They were, after all, kidnap victims and not a naturally occurring society. They deserved the help. Especially once they were able to live on the surface.

In the meantime, while the Enterprise waited on further orders, for their assignment to end, or to respond if needed, Spock would have the Enterprise scanning every bit of this planet that he could. Sending their own shuttles to re-scan the planet and the caverns that led down to the enclosure. _If_ the Preservers were responsible for this, this was the nearest anyone had come to finding out who they were. Physical traces of them. Three hundred and twenty-one years was a fraction of a millisecond in Universe time. They could be _this_ close to actually meeting them. Which was exciting and scary at the same time.

But after all that, Jim still felt like he'd left something undone.

_Probably the egg. Still sitting in Bones's terrarium. He hasn't mentioned it since, but he still seems to have a need to touch it once in a while. I kind of feel bad that someone won't be there when it hatches. But it can't be helped._

It was such a little detail, in the scheme of things. But that didn't make it unimportant.

"Did you check--"

"Just before we beamed down," Bones said with a sigh. "Still alive. It'll probably hatch while we're gone. Belanty's going to check on it. Dispose of it once it dies."

"Still better off than where it was," Jim said, hoping to be comforting.

Bones shrugged. "And it's probably had more days than it would have had in that cold water. All the other nibblets have hatched and are doing fine. All we can do is the best we can do."

Bones turned to look at Jim as he walked. Jim could see he was worried, and not about the egg.

"Same with these people, Jim. Bad situation. There may not be a good answer for them. Maybe it's just picking the lesser of all the evil choices."

"So, we just do what we _can_ do," Jim agreed.

"Pavement," Sulu announced from ahead of them. Sulu's light flashed down the road, ahead of the group. Jim could barely make out a paved surface crossing their path up ahead.

"Our road straight into town," Jim declared as he and Bones joined the others.

"We're on the clock now, people, and we could be splitting up soon," Jim said. "Keep your interactions as close to the local norm as possible. Use your watch-comms sparingly, and blend in where you can. I'll find a way for us all to get together to meet and exchange information and resources. So, stay alert for my info-bursts on the watches. They'll be subtle so they won't attract attention if you're surrounded by people. Remember, don't volunteer any more information about yourself than you have to. That's how we'll get caught in lies. If you have to get the hell out, get to a wooded area. Where we came in, preferably. And signal the Meloy ship for a pickup. Hopefully at night. Their camouflage isn't as convincing during the day."

Jim scanned them, seeing a crew that was ready to get to work. He turned to look down the main road, toward the city.

"While we're pretty sure that the Meloy pilot will have been taken to the army base, we can't be one hundred percent certain. Follow up on any rumors to the contrary. Find a way to get us into that base and out again. Names, ranks, schedules, what ID's we'd need to replicate. What equipment we'd need to steal or duplicate... We want a jailbreak, but not an assault mission unless it's unavoidable. Report everything to me, when you can."

"And be _careful_ ," Bones added. "Medicine here is primitive. I'm hoping to get a nursing job at the hospital, and I have a Medkit, hidden in my shaving kit. But it's limited. Find me if you need to, instead of going to the local hospital. Best bet is to not need me at all."

"Ready?" Jim asked.

All answers were firmly positive. The sun would soon be up. It was time.

Jim turned and started walking down the side of the roadway, toward the one city on the whole planet. The others followed behind him.

 

 

***

Three Days Later

***

 

 

Nyota Uhura, now 'Julie Smith', moved carefully between the crowded desks, careful not to bump any of them with her cleaning cart. New to the job, she'd been warned by Ruth not to make too much noise as she emptied the trash bins and ashtrays. At eight o'clock at night, there were still a few journalists working at their desks that she wasn't supposed to bother. Or be noticed by. The janitorial staff of the building that rented to the _Printsville Examiner_ was not to get into anyone's way. Dressed in her 'maid' uniform of black, knee-length skirt, black long-sleeved shirt, sensible shoes, and white apron, she at least was dressed for the job. With her hair pulled back into a hairnet, she certainly looked the part of someone intending to do some dirty work.

And it had been dirty. The building that housed the newspaper office also housed several other businesses. Cleaning the hallways and toilets wouldn't have been too bad if it hadn't been for the cigarette smoke that clung persistently to all the furnishings and tainted the air. The stink was almost as bad as the fumes from the cars.

And the _signs_. She hated the signs here, and there all over the city. 'White Only' and 'Colored Only' hung over all of the bathrooms and even the drinking fountains.

It incensed her to know that because of her skin color, the only time she was allowed the use of those areas, or fountains, was to clean them. She bit her tongue and tried not to dwell on it. History was what it was. These people had a lot of changes coming in their future. And if not them, then their children. Even the job she'd been dying to get, that of switchboard operator for the building, was closed to her as a person of color. There she could have plugged into the ancient phone system and listened in on calls. But she learned quickly that even asking about a job there got her a laugh and a brush off.

Maintenance work had been the closest her new-found friend and landlady had been able to help her find. The room in a house of an elderly widow, in the 'colored' part of town, was small but homey. Mrs. Reynolds had taken pity on her and had called friends in order to get her this job, and she was thankful for the help. She'd known of the racial situation, but it had been a painful smack in the face to actually live it.

_Such a wonderful woman. And so strong! I can't imagine living my whole life in this situation. Raising a family..._

She shook her head, bringing her mind back to the situation at hand. She needed to think of how to get into the Editor's office to search the files. But there were four journalists still at their desks. Her new boss, Ruth, was even now inside the Editor's office.

 _Now, if these people could just finish up and leave!_ Uhura thought impatiently. _If only I can get in there without Ruth seeing me. She seems pretty protective of her keys to the executive's rooms. Can't blame her there._

 _I don't want to rock the boat, but I can't wait too long,_ Uhura thought as she emptied another trash basket. _No one seems to know anything about the Meloy ship crashing. Or seems to think about anything but the war with the Japanese. And yet, the information from the Meloy was that the crash and capture had eclipsed the war news for a bit._

_It wasn't that long ago. Strange that they'd not remember it now._

It wasn't the first hint that something was off, even beyond the whole situation. One of the first things she noticed was that the city looked like a patchwork quilt. Many of the older towns on Earth had that look, especially where they had a history. But this city looked as if it'd been pieced together from bits of various cities. There was no real 'downtown' or business district. Private homes were clumped together, with five-story business buildings next to them. A movie theater next to a school. Three grocery stores next to each other. And the styles of homes didn't match. A comfortable-looking two-story set next to a broken-down shack of a house, which sat next to one much fancier on the other side.

And it wasn't just the houses and buildings that seemed odd. There seemed to be few children, or the very old.

She could just be missing something. But she hoped that if she could get into the Editor's office, she might be able to see what news they'd gathered from the military on the ship's crash. Maybe who the paper's contacts were. Names and ranks.

As she moved to the next desk, pulling the large cart with her, she suddenly developed goosebumps.

 _They're watching me,_ Uhura realized. _Ruth told me to keep away from them. They're going to be trouble._

Behind her and at the back of the room, which was still a bit hazy around the edges from all the cigarette smoke, two white men sat at messy desks. When she'd started her shift a couple of hours ago, they'd been on the dial phones, talking adamantly to someone at the other end. Now, with the boss long gone, the two had opened a bottle of something alcoholic that must have been hidden in a desk drawer.

Glancing up toward the Editor's office, she saw the door was open which meant Ruth was still working there.

"Hey, girl!"

Uhura didn't turn as the heavy, slightly slurred voice called out to her. She pretended she hadn't heard it. If she remembered correctly, they were Robinson and Barrett. Not the smartest two on staff.

"Hey! _Girl!_ "

That was from the second man, which she took to be Robinson. He sounded a bit put out.

 _They're not going away_ , Uhura thought with annoyance. _But maybe I can use this._

Pausing, Uhura steeled herself, put on her best neutral face and turned.

"Sir?"

"You new here, _girl_?" The older of the two, Barrett, asked with a leer. "Why dontcha come over and introduce yourself?"

"We can have us a little party," Robinson said, holding up his almost empty glass.

"Sorry, gentlemen," she said dismissively, turning back to work. "I'm working right now."

"Don't be sorry. Be _nice_ ," Robinson said, making it sound like an order. "C'mere and talk to us. Earn your keep."

Uhura set the trash can down and turned, a small smile on her face.

"Who? Me? But I'm no one."

"You're a cute one, you are," Barrett said with a leer. "You have a boyfriend, Honey? A husband?"

Uhura walked toward them.

"I might," she replied with a sly smile.

"Experienced at having a good time, I'd bet," Barret continued with a grin.

As she neared, Barret reached out and grabbed at her apron. Uhura quickly wrenched back as soon as he'd taken hold of it. Startled, Barret gripped it harder, making the apron rip along the seam at her waist. The sound echoed in the mostly empty room.

"No! Please!" she wailed, stepping away quickly. "I'm just here to work!"

If that didn't get the remaining journalist's attention, nothing would.

Both men pulled back, suddenly shooting panicked looks around the room. Uhura covered her face, and turn to run. By the time she reached the Editor's office, Ruth had appeared at the door.

Ruth grabbed at her and pulled her into the room, throwing a scalding glare at the two men.

"You okay, Julie?" Ruth asked with concern, looking her over and seeing the ripped apron. "Those brutes! Can't keep their hands to themselves!"

Ruth took her arm and steered her to a visitor's chair. "I'm so _sorry_ about that. Here, sit."

Uhura did, wiping at her face nervously. "I didn't do anything! I'm _not_ that kind of girl!"

"I _shouldn't_ have let you out there alone, while those two were still here," Ruth said. Clearly upset and regretful, Ruth started wringing her own apron. "Those two... well, they've done this before to some of the new girls. I'm _so_ sorry."

Uhura reached out to place a hand on Ruth's arm.

"It's not your fault. It's theirs. Should I report this to--"

"Report?" Ruth asked with sad disbelief. She shook her head, looking worried. "Who would you report this to? Those two white boys wouldn't even get a slap on the wrist, even if anyone cared. You'd just get _us_ in trouble."

"Yes, you're right," Uhura said with sadness.

_She's scared about losing her job. And she's right. No one in charge would care. Not in this culture._

Uhura fanned at her face, pretending she had the sniffles from unshed tears.

"I just don't know if I can go back out there..."

Ruth took a big breath and patted at Uhura's hand. "You stay right here. I'll go out and finish the trash for you. I'm too damn old for those two to make a pass at. Maybe they'll be decent enough to take their drinking out of here and go home."

"I don't want you to put in extra work for me," Uhura said with a grateful smile. "I'll finish up in here."

"Good idea," Ruth said with a nod. "Good practice for when you work your way up to the private offices. I'll be back later and check out your work."

Uhura nodded and watched as Ruth left the office, closing the door behind her. Then she burst into action, going for the Editor's desk. She had to be quick, and exceptionally tidy.

She'd felt bad enough about making Ruth feeling guilty about the exaggerated scene. No use in making Ruth have to fire her for shoddy work as well.

She may need to dig some more tomorrow.

 

***

 

 

Leonard McCoy tried to walk softly down the dark, quiet halls of the hospital's recovery ward. Too many were trying to sleep. As the newest, and only, male nurse on staff at _Printsville General_ , he'd drawn the night shift. So 'Leonard Jones' got the bedpan and bathing duty for the male patients tonight. Which was fine. He'd done his share of that early on in his medical education. If he'd been scared or disgusted by old-fashioned bedpans, catheters, and adult diapers, he'd never had made it through med school in the first place. Automation could only do so much, hygiene wise.

What bothered him was the feeling that he was wasting time.

_The Army doesn't bring their wounded here, even though we're next to the base. If they even have any wounded. They should already have doctors and medics in the ranks. So, no small talk or chatter about their UFO prisoner I can eavesdrop on. How else can I help? Maybe dig around in the hospital's administration files?_

_I know Jim said they could use all the information they could get, but how am I going to know what's important?_

He could have tried to volunteer for service at Fort Abernathy. McGivers had told them that during the early months of the war, volunteerism by licensed physicians had been quite low. Most loathed to give up their practices and clung to hopes the war would be short-lived. That would have gotten him inside the base, for basic training, but he'd still be weeks away from being allowed into anything top secret. And with no way to get off the base on his own to contact Jim or the others. Jim had decided that McCoy needed to keep that as an option, but to hold off. Maybe they could find out what papers to forge and Identity him as a doctor already in the military, if they needed to.

Right now, they needed more information. What did those running Fort Abernathy _think_ was happening?

It wasn't like they'd be sending their troops out any time soon to the war front. Where would they go?

McCoy stopped by one of the doors, looking into the small window into the room. There were some accident victims who'd apparently been recovering since well before they'd been taken with the rest of the population. McCoy was worried about one young man who'd been particularly restless. He was glad to see the man looked as if he were sleeping. The other three in the room were sleeping as well.

_He may be developing methemoglobinemia from the nitrobenzene if they're not already damaging his liver or kidneys. He's beginning to turn a bit blue at the toes and fingertips. God, I wish I were a better chemist. Maybe then I could remember all the ancient medical potions and spells they used in the 1940s. McGivers's scrash course didn't give me nearly enough to work with._

And part of the problem, he knew, was that he wasn't supposed to be working as a doctor at all. He couldn't be a doctor here. Not without giving himself away. But that Medkit hidden in his shaving kit, now tucked away in the nurse's lounge locker, called to him.

_With what I just have in my bare basic kit from the ship, I could probably empty a lot of these rooms. Cure most and send them home._

And it was _killing_ him not to be able to do that.

_Jim was right. I start playing doctor here, and I'll lose focus. The best help for them is to get information. Then let the experts figure out how to proceed._

"How is he doing?"

McCoy startled. He turned, seeing Nurse Simpson behind him. Simpson, an older woman with a sad, tired smile was in charge of the night shift. Where the administrator had been leery of hiring a man for a nurse, she had spoken up for him. Even though his paperwork was, of course, complementary. But it lacked detail on his reason for quitting his last job and moving into the area. McCoy had claimed he just needed a change of scenery, but he could tell the administrator suspected he'd been kicked out of his last job. Male nurses weren't seen as real nursing staff. Most in this time period looked at them as failed doctors, not people who had a calling. Simpson had seen something in him she felt she could trust, and had fought for his hire.

"Oh, asleep," McCoy said with a sheepish smile at having been caught looking.

"Good," she said with a smile. "I'm always happy to see them sleeping. I think things hurt so much less in your dreams."

"But it's never quite enough," McCoy said with a sigh.

"How are you settling in?" Simpson asked with a smile. "I don't like my landlord, so if you like your new place--"

"It's full of bachelors, young and old," McCoy said with a shrug. "My room is tiny, the sheets scratchy, and it smells like too-hot summers, too many cigarettes, and too few baths for the last occupant."

Simson chuckled. "I'll stay put then. Makes my place sound like paradise. By the way, if you're willing, Mrs. Winterstone is awake. She could use a little company, and she likes you. And maternity needs someone to fill in with the newborns for an hour. I've scheduled you for the midnight to one shift. They're short staffed."

She gave him a sad little smile. "After the attack, several of the nurses decided it was time to get pregnant before their husbands got shipped out. Just in case..."

McCoy smiled then checked his watch. "Well, I guess you can't fault their timing. Yeah, I've got time to stop in on Mrs. Winterstone. Insomnia again, or pain?"

"Maybe both," Nurse Simpson said with a frown. "With her advanced condition... Maybe she just needs company the most."

"I'll head on over," McCoy said, nodding at her as he turned to walk down the length of the hallway and into the women's ward.

McCoy tried not to see the building for what it was. It was old, crowded, reeked of cigarette smoke, stale urine, sweaty bodies, and made McCoy miss his MedBay fiercely. McCoy didn't even want to think about what the sanitation procedures, classic for the time period, left behind to infect patients. Not when he couldn't do anything about it.

A flicker above him caught his attention for a second. Glancing up, there was nothing there but some dirty ceiling tiles and probably electrical wires behind those. He'd suspect the crazy electrical wiring they still used, but he'd been seeing the flash other places as well.

 _Stress,_ McCoy thought to himself. _Haven't slept much. Miss Jim, and all this nicotine smoke floating in the air. A considerable portion of the population looks to be addicted. Nicotine is nasty stuff! How'd the hell did this even get started?_

He could see the light on under Mrs. Winterstone's door. It pained him, but even with his hidden Medkit, there wasn't much he could do for the older woman. Reading her chart, he could see years of various gynecological complaints that the doctors had written off as ' _hysterical_ ,' and ' _flighty_ '. They'd ignored her complaints as just not handling her menopause well. Then one of the idiots on staff had decided that maybe taking her appendix out would make the older, but _rich_ , woman happy and be inclined to donate more. Too late, they had found her filled with ovarian cancer. McCoy's quick scan of her had shown him that it had traveled and settled everywhere.

Even if he got her to the ship today, he couldn't save her. Here, there was nothing to be done but make her comfortable. She probably wouldn't live out the week.

He knocked lightly on her door.

"Come in!"

McCoy opened the door to the private room. She was affluent enough that she'd been able to have her personal belongings brought to her. Flowers and picture frames filled the sparse shelves around the room.

"Stella? I have come asking for permission to start courting you," McCoy said with a smile and a slight bow. "A woman of your beauty should never be alone."

Mrs. Winterstone giggled. Propped up in her bed, her long white hair was done up in a 'Victory roll' at the top of her head and hung in a thick braid down her back. The youthful style framed her gaunt face prettily but made her look very sick by contrast. She was, at this point, deathly thin, her skin too translucent and she had that pinched look around her eyes that spoke of a background of pain and worry. She wore a pretty pink nightgown and robe, with her blanket tucked up at her waist. The rolling bed-table filled with her needlework threads and pattern was pulled close.

"Nurse Jones! You are very naughty!" She said with a smile as she set her needlework down. "What would my deceased husband, Nicholas, say?"

"Not much, I hope, considering he's long passed," McCoy said with a teasing smile. He grabbed the cheap visitor chair near the door and pulled it over to the other side of her bed so he could sit next to her.

"If he starts to haunt me, I may have to give up on courting you."

"You are probably younger than my son," She said with a laugh.

"I'd need to be, to keep up with you," McCoy said with a grin.

Stella smiled as she picked her needlework back up.

"You are _such_ a shameless flirt. How is it that some lucky lady hasn't snapped you up yet?"

"Just lucky for them, I'm sure," he said with a shake of his head. "How're you doing tonight?"

Stella shrugged. McCoy could still see the pain behind it. Her hands had a fine tremor, and he noticed she was squinting at her work. "It's not too bad. I just wish I could sleep more. I see Jacob when I dream. I miss him."

"I can only imagine," he said, sympathy filling him with his own dark memories.

He leaned forward to look at the needlework in her hands.

"What is that you're doing, anyway? I think I remember one of my grandparents doing the same thing."

She handed him the large hoop that held the work stretch out for stitching. It was a beautiful, detailed scene of a country garden, created from various colored threads stitched in even, crisscrossed rows up and down the canvas. From a distance, it looked almost like a painting. Close up, McCoy could see that the roughly 20 by 25 centimeters of canvas and had thousands and thousands of individual stitches.

"It's called _counted cross-stitch_. You just follow the pattern on the paper. Takes forever, but well worth the work. Of course, I've dyed some of my own floss. The choice of commercial colors is very poor."

"Stella, this is amazing!" McCoy exclaimed. "You're very talented. How long have you been working on this?"

Stella sighed. "Two years now. I haven't felt well enough to work on it for a while. I started it when my Joe enlisted in the Navy. I want to finish it before... before he gets enough leave to fly home to visit. But now with the war..."

Sadness for her flowed over McCoy once again.

_If he's not here, in this city, with her **now** , he never will be. He's been dead for centuries. She could have relatives on Earth, descendants, and will never know it. Or she could find out something even worse, that her Joe never made it home._

"I'm hoping that I'll get a letter soon," she said with a downcast tone. "Mail has been so _bad_ lately. I haven't gotten a thing in ages. Would you like to see some of his letters? He has such a beautiful hand."

"Sure," McCoy said kindly, carefully settling the large hoop down beside her.

She pulled open a small drawer in the bedtable and pulled out a packet of letters. She handed them to him.

Being polite, McCoy shuffled the envelopes. He was looking at the stamps, ready to comment on how well Stella was keeping her precious letters, just to have something nice to say. Then noticed something odd.

"Stella? How long have you lived in Printsville?"

"Oh, ever since Nicholas and I got married. Our house was a gift from his father. I've never lived anywhere else since we were married."

Only the address John Winterstone had put on the letters to his mother was an address in Seattle, Washington. McCoy checked all seventeen envelopes. All were made out to the same address in Washington.

McCoy carefully handed them back.

"I'm just worried I won't be able to finish this for him," she said sadly. He could see her start to tear up with frustration. "I really can't see the stitches well anymore, let alone read the pattern. And I'm so _close_."

McCoy checked his watch. He still had a while before he had to be in maternity.

"How about you give me a crash course," McCoy said, nodding at the hoop in her trembling hand. "I'm fairly good with my hands and have almost an hour. I can work on it for you. As long as you don't mind my amateurish stitches."

Stella's eyes lit up. "Oh, _would_ you? Thank you! It would make me feel so much better to see it done. I _so_ want my John to have it after... to remind him of home. It's very easy. If you know how to read a map, you can follow the pattern."

Stella handed him the hoop again and started gathering her supplies.

"While I work on this for you, Stella, tell me all about the city. Everything you can remember about it. And do you know anything about Fort Abernathy?"

"Oh, do I know about the Fort!" Stella said happily as she sorted the small skeins of colorful floss. "So _much_ gossip from there. Several of the nurses' have husbands there. Some of them are retired now. In the 'family way,' you understand. But the things I could tell about the fort!"

"Stella, I think you've just made my whole evening," McCoy said happily. He sat back and eyed the hoop in one hand, the pattern on the table, and the floss and needle in the other hand. It didn't look too hard.

"I'm _all_ ears."

 

***

 

Hikaru Sulu, or 'Robert Chin' to his new employer, drove his taxi slowly down the main street, wary of the streetlights that could reveal his face in the dark. This close to the Army base there could be more police patrols. Just a block from his destination was the fenced edge of the base's property. Behind the fence, there were regular patrols and guards. Even more were clustered around the base entrance, just two blocks past that. He knew that just being Asian in this part of town was more than enough reason to get him pulled over and harassed. Especially at almost two in the morning.

He'd had several run-ins with the law already. Mostly just harassing him and asking for his ID and driver's license. Sulu knew that he had the proper plates, tags, and the taxi license displayed. And the "T" sticker on the car showed he was allowed the use of gas from the rationed stocks for a taxi business. The harassment was just enough to keep scaring his fares away and to remind him that his kind wasn't wanted around here. Sulu had had to keep his temper under control and just roll with it.

He felt sorry for the Lees. The thriving family taxi service had been going downhill fast since the start of the war, and they could soon go out of business if their regular customers decided not to support them anymore. Even with everyone having to severely limit their driving of personal cars, because of the gasoline rationing, some would choose to walk miles rather than put money in a _Jap's_ hands.

 _At least the Lee's have other family members and friends with businesses to help them survive if they go under,_ Sulu thought. _Restaurants, cleaners, cooks, mechanics... all the Asian families have come together to support each other. Just like they took me in, a stranger. Because it's clear that it's an 'us against them' mentality now. And the local Asians are the visible 'them' the others can react to._

_Can all this really change within this generation's lifetime? Can they all look past a war that ended over three-hundred years ago, mourn all their losses, and see the surface of this planet as a new start?_

_Whatever happens, it's going to be rough for all these people. None of them asked for this. I just hope we can smooth the transition in some way._

He was relieved when he finally came upon the closed diner. Placed at the corner, the diner's customers could watch the traffic on two main streets, all the way down to the entry gate to Fort Abernathy. Driving into the narrow alley to the side, Sulu was thankful he could leave the taxi out of sight of any street patrols. After parking, Sulu found the back door and knocked in the pattern Jim had indicated on the watch. One of the first things the Captain had transmitted on their watches was the landline numbers where they all could be reached, and instructions to meet here at two a.m.

The door opened quickly.

"Good," Jim said as he grabbed Sulu's jacket and pulled him in quickly, shutting the door solidly behind them. "The others are here, and the other cook staff won't be here for a few more hours. Breakfast starts at five, so we have time."

"You're living upstairs?" Sulu asked, following him down a short hall into the kitchen.

" _Jim Reynolds_ is getting room and board upstairs, plus a bit of cash," Jim said as they entered the main kitchen area. "And keys to open up so I can prep for breakfast. We can meet here, after hours. As long as we don't show any lights to the street no one should know."

Sulu had noticed the small restaurant had both a " _No Japs"_  and a _"Whites Only"_  sign out front. Like so many other places. There were few places they could all meet, unnoticed.

The others were already there. McCoy gave Sulu a nod as he ate from a plate set on a prep table. Uhura, dressed in a maid's outfit, was eating beside him. She nodded. McGivers, looking like she'd just woken up and hadn't pulled herself together yet, was dressed in a miss-buttoned coat and some sort of loose housedress. Her hair was neat, but not put up. She covered a yawn as he came in.

"You hungry?" Jim asked Sulu as he leaned against a prep table covered with breakfast ingredients to be prepared. "I can cook you anything you want. Got plenty. I can cook while we talk."

"Uhura and I are having dinner," McCoy said to Sulu between mouthfuls. "Don't be afraid of Jim's cooking. He's been a short-order cook before, and a damn good one."

"In a past life," Jim said with a crooked smile. "I had a lot of odd jobs before the Academy. That experience has certainly come in handy."

"No, I'm fine," Sulu said, snagging a clean glass and going to the tap to fill it with water. "The family that took me in and gave me a job can't stop feeding me. Nice people in a bad situation."

"Same here," Uhura said with a sigh as she finished her meal and brought the plate and utensils to the sink for washing up. She started to rinse it when Jim said 'just leave it' over his shoulder to her. She left it.

"I'm living with a widowed lady," Uhura continued. "Three children in the area, but she lives alone and rents out a room in the colored part of town. She got me a job in janitorial services in the building the local newspaper rents. She's gone out of her way to welcome me in."

"Everyone's having a hard time now," Sulu said, finding a place where he could lean against the counter as he sipped his water. "The Asian community is afraid of reprisals and retaliation for Pearl Harbor. They're closing ranks."

"They have good reasons to do so," McGivers said with a sigh. "The Roberts Commission report, which investigated the Pearl Harbor attack, was released in January. It accused persons of Japanese ancestry of espionage. By the end of February 1942, the President had signed Executive Order 9066, and the internment of Japanese-Americans began. Most were taken from the west coast, but Iowa didn't look to be far behind."

"Okay. Let's get started," Jim said. He leaned back, crossed his arms, and looked at them all. "Let's do an info dump, focusing on what we've found so far. I know it's only been a couple of days, but every day the Meloy pilot is in their custody is one day too long. Sulu? You first."

"A few of the locals have kids or relatives in the US military, and they're scared to death for them," Sulu said. "But I think getting any current info about the fort is going to be a dead end. They don't have any connections to the military here, and won't be getting any, any time soon. Mostly they run some taxies, a couple of restaurants and some laundry services. They _do_ have some large delivery vans I could snag if we need one. Some taxis, like the one I'm driving now. One of my new friends has a car repair shop that gets all kinds of cars in. Some sit for a few days on the back lot before they're picked up."

"That may come in handy," Jim said, pulling at his lower lip as he thought. "You said some of them have restaurants, right? Maybe we can arrange for them to cater to the Fort for an event. Get the truck on the base that way."

"Possible," Sulu admitted. "They still have regular customers. Are still open. So maybe that'll be a way to get in. Other than that, I don't have much."

"Okay. Uhura?"

"As janitorial services, I have access to a lot of keys, if we need to get into the same building the newspaper is in," Uhura began. "I managed to get into the Editor's office and search for a bit. He's got fast and furious notes on the crash. Even turned up at the scene himself. There was a lot of police, fire, and military at the site not long after the crash. The 'clean up' lasted for a couple of days. According to his notes, he and the other reporters couldn't get too close to the scene, and the local military brass showed up and was hostile to their presence. But the Editor noticed one large flatbed transport truck leave the area. It came in empty, it left with a huge, wide load. Covered by camouflage canvas. Then several other vehicles arrived. The ambulance that initially arrived at the scene was gone before the reporters got there."

"Was the flatbed cargo big enough to be the one-man Meloy craft?" Jim asked.

Uhura nodded. "Sounded about right. It was escorted by the military."

" _Gotta_ be on base," McCoy said as he walked his empty plate over to the sink to join Uhura's. "There's just nowhere else it's going to be."

"Did you get the names of any of the brass?" Jim asked. "Ranks?"

"The Editor did. I took a copy of the notes as well." Uhura held up her arm with the watch.

"Good."

"There were a ton of follow up notes," Uhura added, looking confused. "Even the UFO angle to go after. But the next day the Editor seemed to forget it, and never gave any orders for his reporters to follow up on the incident."

"Did someone from the Fort warn them off?" McCoy asked.

"Not that it shows in his notes," Uhura answered. "He logs in his phone calls, and there's nothing from the military. It's like he just forgot about it."

"Anything else?"

"No. I can get to some of the reporter's desks if I need to," Uhura said. "But they work in an open room, some late at night. I'd have to dodge my supervisor, and she keeps all the keys overnight and collects them after our shift. I'd have to find some way to lift them or have copies made."

"These are all old-fashioned locks," Jim said. "Shouldn't be too hard to break in if we need to. I'm sure Scotty could rig up something to pop them in seconds. Okay. McGivers?"

Marla McGivers stood up a little straighter.

"I've found a small place near the base, but haven't found a job yet. I've been spending the days at the library, trying to get some information on the city's past. They're definitely the library from Printsville, Iowa. Their local history books, magazine, and newspaper collections all show that location as their main focus. The taking of this town seems to have been pretty seamless for the population. There aren't any missing dates or blank spots. It's as if they were on Earth, in 1942 at one second, then here, awake and aware, the next. Nothing in the past issues I saw even hints at anything strange. Not from being cut off from the rest of the world. Not from the change in scenery or the new mountain range. They seem to have never even noticed."

"Any information on the Meloy pilot?" Jim asked.

"There was a headline on one edition, the day after the capture," she said. "I took a still image with my watch, as there's no way to duplicate it otherwise. Although I can steal it if I have to. It was front-page news and focused on the crash being a possible attack by the Japanese. Nothing about a UFO, or with an 'Alien from Mars' angle. It also promised further information, but issues since then haven't even mentioned it."

McGivers shook her head. "I tried to start up a conversation with the librarian about it, but she didn't seem to remember. I had to show her the paper and headline, and she seemed surprised to see it. If she had read it, and I'm sure she did as she claims to read the local paper every day, she's forgotten it."

"Or was _made_ to forget it," McCoy said.

"Anything else?" Jim asked.

"Yes, actually," McGivers said, shaking her head. "Have you all noticed how _off_ the layout of the buildings are, especially at the edges of town?"

"Oh, I certainly have," Uhura replied quickly.

"You're right," Jim said to McGivers. "I noticed it as well. Towns tend to have mismatched buildings, as styles and building codes change over time. But this place is like a jigsaw with non-fitting pieces mashed in to fit. Single homes mixed in with businesses. A couple of grocery stores in the same neighborhood wouldn't be terribly unusual, but three of them is overkill. Right next to each other isn't smart."

"I think that's because not only was Printsville taken," McCoy continued, "but other buildings from around that time as well. As well as various people from different areas across the US."

"Was a whole town not enough?" Uhura asked with surprise.

"May not have been," McCoy said with a shrug. "Maybe they were looking for a certain headcount. A certain racial mixture. People who wouldn't be missed, and easier to cover up taking. All I know is that the lady I talked to last night, at no point in her life, had a connection with Iowa. Now she believes she's supposed to be _here_ , but still remembers Washington state as her only state of residence. She has brain cancer, so maybe whatever adjusting is going on is not working very well with her."

"This city could be full of missing people from all over," McGivers said with a sigh. "There wasn't any real way to reliably identify people back then except by fingerprinting. And that wasn't done in the general population. Nor were their movements tracked. People voluntarily left families and never came back."

"We'll have to find out, someday," Jim said, "if they all have something in common that pinpointed them out to the kidnappers as someone worth taking."

"That is what it was," Uhura agreed. "Kidnapping. Even if well-intentioned."

"That's all I have right now," McGivers admitted. "I can do some more digging today, once the library opens back up."

"Okay," Jim said. "Bones?"

"The records show no deliveries of victims, or aliens, to the hospital by ambulance or otherwise that night. Or the next morning," McCoy said. "So that ambulance didn't return straight to the hospital. One ambulance seems to be missing for a couple of days, along with the doctor who rode on it. Both returned a few days later, none the worse for wear, but with no stories about the time off. I haven't met the doctor yet. I may have to find an excuse to go to the hospital during the day to be able to run into him.

"And another thing I've found out is how the base is laid out," McCoy said. "Some of the nurses have husbands there. Or did. A couple of them are upset because they haven't heard from their husbands since they were shipped out. Stella, the lady I've talked to, said she hadn't gotten any letters from her son in months. Now, between the dates on Stella's mail, her complaint about not getting any mail at all, and the date the husbands shipped out and their wives' pregnancies, I think these people were taken sometime early June, and all at once. And for them, it seemed instantaneous."

"So that confirms what we've been thinking," Jim said.

"And I also heard," McCoy continued, "that the base was gearing up to send a lot of their men and supplies to the West Coast, to be sent to various areas overseas. Which would stand to reason, with the war for the US gearing up. But the base no longer seems to be preparing to move out. Nor ship any more of its men into action. Nor do they seem panicked about it. One nurse I talked to said her husband was to be shipped out at the end of the month, but that's been canceled. From what she's said he's told her, they have Cinderella Liberty, must stay on base and are hunkering down to await new orders. If they live on base, which only has housing for the brass, they can go home. But the enlisted off-base can't go home overnight."

"Did the nurses say anything about the night the ship crashed?" Jim asked.

"They don't even seem to remember it," McCoy said with a shake of his head.

"The people I talk to are the same," Sulu added. "They almost remember something happened, but can't quite recall."

"If it's not part of the programming this place was set to run, maybe it's making them forget," Uhura said.

"Trying to keep them on the straight and narrow," McCoy added. "Whatever path that is. And I think I can draw you out a basic map, from what the ladies told me. There's a room in the back of the medical unit they used to put prisoners. Mostly enlisted drunks. Below that, in the basement, is a bigger area. There are containment areas down there, although I got from the ladies that it was used more for storage."

"Tornado cellar," Jim said. "The old Tornado Alley used to go through Iowa before Weather Control was put into place. I have a feeling that's where the pilot will be."

"Do we know his name?" Uhura asked. "We all may need to identify ourselves to him, during a rescue. I don't think I've heard his name yet."

"Oh, you're right," Jim said with a shake of his head. "It's _Zane_. Hopefully, he's not talking to anyone, and we can use that information to get his co-operation."

" _If_ he's mobile," McCoy said with a frown.

"Which is why you need to be on the rescue mission," Jim said. "There's no telling what kind of shape Zane will be in. Now, on to my report."

Jim pushed himself away from the table and started to pace the small room.

"I spent most of yesterday scouting the streets around the base. Then last night at a bar across from the Fort's entrance. The men do have Cinderella Liberty, which means back on base by midnight. Talk is about the war, and no one seems to feel that they'll be shipping out soon. There was reportedly some big-shot General scheduled to visit the fort, but it's been called off. A few seemed to remember something big happening about the time of the crash but didn't seem to remember it. Not that it was classified or secret, just that they could almost remember, but not quite."

Jim stopped pacing when he came back to the prep table. "I actually expected to get more flack about joining up from the soldiers I talked to. Why wasn't I already in? Was I a "Conscientious Objector"? Did I test out, for physical problems? You would think that at the start of the war all the able-bodied men would get pulled in for service. Even if it was just peer pressure pushing them that way. But no one asked."

"Maybe you look too old?" Sulu suggested.

McGivers coughed a laugh behind her hand before she jumped in. "Actually, the Selective Service age bracket for draft registration is from 18 to 64 by this time. Not the 26 to 36 it was last year."

"Well, then let's hope, for my ego's sake alone, that it's for reasons other than age," Jim said with a slight glare at Sulu.

Sulu just smiled and shrugged at him.

"Someone's messing with these people's memories," McCoy insisted. "Big time. But when and how?"

"Good question," Jim said. He sighed and rubbed at his temples. "Right now, we're going to have to focus on getting Zane out of Fort Abernathy and getting him home. Without scanners or transporters. Without hurting anyone or getting them, or us, killed. Any ideas?"

"The Fort was built to train army inductees, and provide National Guard services," McGivers said. "So, it's not built to withstand attacks, as such. I mean, not designed that way, building wise. The fences are there to keep people from wandering in. The Fort does seem to be a local complex, as I've seen some articles about it in the library. So, it's native to Printsville and Iowa. Maybe I can find some building plans in the library, or in any government records, that might help."

"Good idea. I'll scout around the edges of the base again, once breakfast is over," Jim said. "See if I can plot out the site. If we can get a good map, we can at least plan our escape route. The problem is how to sneak in, get to their prisoner, and not get stopped along the way. Then break out in the most painless way possible."

Sulu could see that Uhura must have had an idea. She looked enthused.

"Wait," Uhura said suddenly. "You said that there had been a scheduled visit from a General, that was called off?"

"Yes," Jim said with interest.

"Then why not reschedule it?" Uhura asked. "Make it a surprise inspection. Because of the new prisoner and advanced technology found in the crash. They must have tried to tell someone 'outside' of what happened. Won't they be expecting someone to arrive and give new orders as to the Alien's removal to a more secure area?"

"We can get the Enterprise to reproduce the uniforms, right?" Sulu added, feeling excited at the idea.

"A General would certainly be given the Grand Tour," McGivers added. "And they would have the right to take Zane away with him, correct?"

"And if we can tap into their communications system," Uhura added. "Make our own phone calls, send out radio messages. Whatever it takes to get everything arranged and have the Fort convinced that this General is on his way."

"They _would_ welcome him in," Jim agreed, looking a lot happier than he had a few minutes ago. "This is a _great_ idea. I'll contact the Meloy ship and have them send a message to the Enterprise. They should be able to recreate convincing military uniforms and papers?"

Jim looked at McGivers questioningly.

"Oh, yes," McGivers agreed. "That's all in the records."

"Uhura, when you go in tonight, see if you can access the newspaper records, or the Editor's notes, and see if they mention the visit. Bones? McGivers? You both ask around as well," Jim ordered. "Let's see if we can get that General's name, and where he's from. Make it as easy to get on that base as possible. Sulu?"

"Sir?"

"See if that car garage you have access to has a good car you can borrow, or steal if we have to," Jim ordered. "Along with a van of some type. Military style if you can manage it. I don't know if we can steal a military car around here without everyone going crazy over it, but nothing says a General can't travel across the US in style. Maybe even wants to travel covertly."

"And how do we get Zane off the base?" McCoy asked. "They're just not just going to hold a car door open for him and let him ride off with us."

"Why not?" Jim shrugged. "Our General throws his weight around, he can order the Colonel in charge of the base to bundle up the Alien and the ship and use his trucks and men if we have to. We get them out of the city, then incapacitate the troops. Push the self-destruct button on the craft, hustle Zane into the woods, then head on home."

"So, I'm gonna need to whip up something for that 'incapacitate' part?" McCoy asked.

"Phasers and stunners won't work here," Jim said. "Maybe we can get Spock to create some medicated smoke bombs along with the uniform and General's ID. You can whip up some kind of hypo for us that will give us immunity to it."

McCoy frowned. "Knew I should'a become a chemist."

"Who's going to be the General?" Sulu asked. "We've all had our faces seen out and about."

Jim smiled. "I know someone who might come in handy, when getting rid of that alien ship. Someone who can bluff his way in, think on his feet, and has had a lot of people under his command already."

"And that person would be...?" McCoy asked.

Jim's smile grew bigger.

"I figure Scotty's due for a promotion, don't you?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Three

 

***

 

Jim sighed tiredly as he shut the kitchen door on Uhura, McGivers, and Sulu. All had orders to meet again tomorrow, same time, same place unless notified otherwise.

_Now if we can get all this in place, we'll have a plan. I need to get word to the Enterprise and see what kind of timetable we're talking about._

"Great that Sulu can give them a ride home," Bones said. "Still pretty early for people to be out and about. No use getting the local police's attention."

"You should have gone with them."

"Nah. I'll walk back to the hospital in a bit, hang around the cafeteria, then call for a taxi later." Bones came up to Jim. "Wanted to visit."

Jim smiled and came up to Bones, arms out for a hug.

"Don't have much time," Jim said into Bones's neck. "The owner will be here in an hour, along with the waitresses, and I need to get information to the Enterprise."

"Don't need long." Bones pulled Jim in close, gave him a tight squeeze, then pushed him back just enough for a kiss. Bones wrinkled his nose. "You smell and taste like cigarette smoke."

"I _have_ spent most of the night at a bar," Jim said. "And you know the culture. Cigarettes are _'killer-diller'_ here. _Everyone_ smokes. You'd be surprised how quickly you make friends here by offering to share your pack. I have to join them once in a while, or it'd look suspicious."

Bones sighed. "I've managed to avoid it. But my room smells like the last guy was a chain smoker. Don't _you_ get addicted. Nicotine's nasty. I'll have to--"

"Give me a hypo to wean me off it," Jim said with a shrug. "Been there, done that. Withdrawal was uncomfortable but not as bad as some stuff I've tried."

"You saying you've smoked _real_ tobacco before?" Bones asked, eyebrows rising. "The unprocessed plant? _When_ did that happen? Or do I want to know?"

"I was thirteen. Wanted to fit in with the older kids, all who wanted in on Frank's parties. Frank caught me raiding his stash one night. Then dragged me to the local doctor for a hypo of that stuff that helps you quit by negating the nicotine, dumping it into your bowels, and making you barf your lungs out if you touch it again anytime soon. I was smart enough not to want to go through that again."

" _Thirteen_?" Bones repeated with a frown.

"Not really Frank's fault that time. It _was_ locked up," Jim said with a shrug. "I was just good at getting into things I wanted to get into. And it was an expensive fix, since Frank had to bribe the doctor to keep it off the records. But he knew it was cheaper in the long run than paying for under-the-counter, unprocessed tobacco and a daily habit. Especially if my mother found out. He wasn't stupid."

At Bones's shocked look, Jim continued with a mischievous smile.

"Bones, at one point or another in my life, I've smoked everything Terran, and then some. I was a wild child, remember? How're _you_ doing?"

"Alright, I guess," Bones said with a shrug as he reached up to rub at his eyes. "Need to get my eyes checked though."

"Oh? Why?"

"Keep getting flashes, out of the corner of my eye," Bones said with a frown. "In my peripheral vision. Damned annoying."

"You tried scanning--?"

"Scanner I brought isn't that sophisticated," Bones interjected. "I'll just have M'Benga check it out when we get home. Probably the stress. And all the cigarette smoke bothering me."

Jim checked the time.

_Where does it all go? It seems like it's either going too fast or too slow._

"You'll need to leave soon," Jim said reluctantly.

"I know. Just try and get a nap in after you finish with lunch," Bones said with a sigh as he turned toward the back door. Jim followed. "You look worn out."

"Won't really sleep until I get home. With you."

At the door they kissed again before opening it. Bones tried not to make a face this time, and Jim loved him for it.

Jim shut the door, locked it, and headed for his tiny room upstairs to lock himself in and make his verbal report to the Meloy ship. It would then pass it along to the Enterprise and Spock. He had detailed information and instructions to outline, and he didn't want to be interrupted.

_Maybe we'll be lucky, and everything will be ready to ship down to the surface tomorrow night. Put everything in motion the next day._

It may be pushing it, but he could always hope.

 

***

 

 

_So pretty. She's so pretty,_ McCoy thought, the world a complicated jumble around him as he tried to pull himself out of his dream.

The memory of swimming in the dark, beautiful ocean had returned, and he tried to remember more of it as he woke. This time his little fantasy friend, Bell, had been there with him. She'd danced and frolicked around all the strange and beautiful species swimming around them, sharing his interest and delight. She'd seemed so real, he almost felt like he missed her.

He pulled himself up and shook his head. The tick of the old, metal fan as it hit the end of its swivel and went back the other direction wasn't the only sound in the room. It was a small, one room apartment, with white-washed walls that were turning yellow in the corners, a twin bed, and furniture ancient even for the '40s. He shared a bathroom down the hall with five others, all who worked during the day. The thin, yellow window shade did little to keep the sunlight out, which was as hot and annoying as the real thing. Working the night shift meant he'd be able to get in a bath and a leisurely shave while the others were out, but it also meant car noises, fumes, and voices close by. Even with gas rationing, people had to get around the city, so most taxis and buses were doing a booming business. That, and the hot daytime air all served to keep him awake for more hours than he liked to think about.

_At least it was a nice dream. I wonder what Starfleet's psychiatrists would say if I told them about the dreams._

_I probably don't want to know. They get a good look at me, and I could lose my CMO position._

_Who can stay sane out here?_

He'd spent a lot of the morning at the hospital's cafeteria gossiping with the staff. Too much time. He had slipped in to see Stella before he left. He'd helped her finish her cross-stitch, and he'd wanted to check in with her for a minute. See if he could help get it framed for her. The nursing staff had been too busy to stop him, and he knew when he'd reached her door that she was gone. All Stella's things had been removed, and another elderly lady was now in the barren room.

When he'd flagged down one of the day nurses, he'd been told that Stella had passed early in the morning, not hours after his shift was over. Probable heart attack. All her things were in boxes, down in the morgue, ready to go to the funeral home with her.

He hadn't the heart to go and see her, and it hadn't made it any easier to sleep when he'd gotten to his ugly, tiny room. Only exhaustion and stress had finally tipped him over the edge.

After all that, the dream itself had been a blessing.

Sitting up and rubbed at his stubbled face. He wanted a shower but would have to make do with the bath. The day was hot, and he'd sweated in his sleep. He had the leftover of a headache behind his eyes and felt ragged, dirty, and tired.

_I guess it's just as well Jim and I aren't sharing. I'd scare him away for good._

He looked at the time. He'd have to be back on duty soon. Unless Jim called them all in or he found a better avenue to follow up. He'd eventually have to be a no-show for his shift, but in the long run, it was better to get this assignment over and let the smart guys figure out how to help all these people. He picked up the small, cheap alarm clock and checked the time.

_I'm not really hungry. I'll just eat here. Faster that way and more time in the tub. Just wish I had some coffee. I'll have to get some at the hospital._

The room had no refrigerator or any other means of cold storage, and was missing a hot plate. If he'd be here any length of time, he'd probably invest in one, along with a coffee percolator. If he could figure out how to use one. So, McCoy had settled for water out of the bathroom tap down the hall, a block of cheese, some desiccated apples, a loaf of commercially produced sliced bread, and a jar of oily peanut butter that McCoy had to mix before use. It made him wonder if he was eating three-hundred-year-old mashed peanuts. His gut hadn't protested the previous meals, so he decided it didn't much matter.

But it did make him wonder how people could live like this for years.

McGivers had told them all about the rationing put into effect at the start of World War II. First, tires, then gas was rationed to keep people from wearing down what tires they did have. People were issued lettered stickers for their cars, which showed how much gas they were allowed a week, and a stamp book to go with it. Then the purchase of personal vehicles was restricted. By March of 1942, dog food could no longer be sold in cans, to save the tin. By April, no metal toothpaste tubes. Now, in June of 1942, companies had stopped manufacturing metal office furniture, radios, phonographs, refrigerators, vacuum cleaners, washing and sewing machines. Ration cards had started to be issued around the US for sugar. And it would just get worse as the war rolled on.

_I guess it's no different than having to ration on the Defiant and Enterprise. Only we were lucky it hadn't lasted all that long. Just seemed like it. These people would have had years of this if they'd been left on Earth._

_If they'd have had the choice, though, I bet they still would have chosen to stay on Earth, war or no war._

Leaving his sandwich on the plate he'd have to wash by hand in the bathroom, he chewed on the dry apple while getting up to open the window. It would let in all the stink of the car fumes, but he was hoping to cool off a bit before he hit the tub.

When he turned back around to the room, he froze.

_What the hell? What is...? It looks like...!_

His brain stuttered. He blinked several times, sure that he was seeing things.

_It... it looks like Bell!_

On his peanut butter sandwich something a couple of inches long, and about the width of his finger, sat like a puff of fluff on the edge of his lunch. Its warm yellow light was muted in this fake sunlight, but it still glowed. On both sides was an undulation of filmy rainbow colors, like the rolling shine off a soap bubble. The colors moved in and out of his vision, like wings that didn't wholly exist in this space.

It had settled on the crust of his sandwich. There were four tiny feeler-like legs now, on the side he could see. He assumed there was the same number on the other side. He hadn't seen them before, so they must be kept tucked in. The two front legs seemed to pick at the bread and bring a tiny spec of it up to a mouth. He watched, and it didn't seem to chew, just sucked the crumb in.

As he inched closer, it turned, and four little, dark eyes turned to look up at him.

Carefully, he bent down for a closer look. He got the strange feeling it was waiting for him to say something.

"You're not Terran, are you?" McCoy asked quietly. "Not that I know every Terran animal or insect there ever was. But I've had you on my mind for several days now. Dreamt about you at least once on the ship. What are you?"

_[ **joy, happy, papa, protector, food** ]_

They weren't words, but silent feelings and emotions, like in the dream he'd remembered. He didn't recall ever hearing any sound from it

_Mute? Telepathic communication?_

"You're not from here, are you?" McCoy asked, not moving. "I saw you on the ship. Dreamed you. But what _are_ you?"

**_[flash of green, leaves, warm touching]_ **

"Oh!" McCoy said with shock as he recognized his own bonsai tree, only much larger, as part of the image that flickered in his mind. A view only something very small would have inside his terrarium.

" _You're_ the _nibblet_? But... but you were _dying_. There was _nothing_ in the datasheet about the trenwalli metamorphosing into something else. How can that be?"

Bell, because now he couldn't think of her as anything else, turned back to eating crumbs.

"Can you understand me? My words?"

Bell took another nibble of the sandwich. It didn't seem to be paying him much attention at first. Then it jumped back into the air, making McCoy startle, and hovered. McCoy slowly sat back down on the bed. He now looked up at her. She was as beautiful in real life as in his dreams.

**[unhappy, hungry, not food]**

_She didn't like the sandwich. Can't blame her there._

He held up the remainder of his apple. While he was still holding it, she fluttered over and settled on it, then began scooping tiny portions with her small mouth.

**[papa, food, happy]**

It was a joyful burst of thought impressions. Bell liked the apple.

_Papa? I know that's what she's saying. Isn't that what I told her to call me in my dream? I think I remember saying it to her._

_She thinks I'm her Papa?_

After a moment, Bell rose off of the apple and with a burst of happiness flickered out of existence.

McCoy sat for a minute, feeling stunned.

"Yeah, I think that this is worth waking Jim up for," McCoy said to himself.

It didn't take long for Jim to get to his apartment. When he arrived, he looked barely awake. McCoy knew he'd probably been out all day scoping out the fort and had just started in on a nap. He wished he'd had some coffee to offer him.

Jim sat in the one chair in McCoy's rented room, hunched over, elbows on knees. His eyes were blinking rapidly as he tried to process what McCoy had just told him.

"And it just _disappeared_?" Jim asked. "Slow, like a transporter beam or--"

"Like a bubble popping," McCoy said. "There, then gone."

"Did it sound like--"

"No. No sound," McCoy said excitedly. McCoy's words started coming faster and faster as he spoke with excitement. "I don't think it ever made a sound. Not even its wings. They didn't flap or buzz. Only, I don't think they're wings, really, they sort of seem interdimensional or--"

"Wait! Slow down," Jim ordered. He sat up straight. "Okay. You first saw it in a dream. On the ship."

"Jim, I _know_ it sounds crazy, but it's the nibblet. The one I took _home_. Somehow, it wasn't dying. It was _metamorphosing_ from one form to another. Maybe some kind of spontaneous mutation."

"And you think it's been following you around? Followed you here?"

"That's why I kept seeing a flicker out of the corner of my eye," McCoy said.

"And it talks to you, in your head?"

"Yeah," McCoy said with a sigh. "That sounds kinda crazy, I know. But it's not really words. Just sort of... impressions of scenes. Emotions. Happy, unhappy, hungry, didn't like the sandwich, but liked the apple."

"And it calls you _Papa_?"

McCoy felt a little sheepish at that.

"Yeah... well... I think I sort of agreed to that the first time I saw it."

Jim didn't look surprised.

"What do you think it _is_ exactly?" Jim asked. "You said there was nothing in the official records about this. Aren't trenwallies children's pets on their homeworld?"

"That's what the data that came with their care instructions said," McCoy replied. "There was something about them being the basis for some sort of fantasy dragon in their legends. Not really dragon-like though. But I guess that's based on _their_ interpretation of the word dragon and not ours."

"Can you call it back?" Jim asked, now clearly concerned.

"Not so far. I've tried. I call it _Bell_ and--"

"You've _named_ it," Jim said. It wasn't a question, and it didn't seem to surprise him.

"Uhm.... yeah."

"Bell?"

McCoy could feel himself flush a little. "Short for _Tinker Bell_. It was a _dream_."

Jim sighed and shook his head. He looked like he didn't know whether he should be concerned, or amused. Maybe both.

"Bones, I don't know what, if anything, we can or should do about this," Jim admitted, sighing as he sat back in the chair. "We've got an important assignment. This could be life or death for that pilot. Anything that can pop in and out at will is going to be a bitch to catch, even on the ship. And we don't have the ship's resources. But we should be able to make our move tomorrow, so maybe Bell won't be a problem."

"Spock's got everything arranged?"

"According to the last report I had relayed in," Jim said with a smile. "The uniforms are ready. Scotty has been briefed in his role as 'General Johnson'. We're to meet back up at the landing spot tonight, about 4 a.m. our time. Sulu has messaged me that he has an impressive car he can get ahold of, that has a ration sticker for as much gas as we want. He has a chauffeur's outfit. Hendorff and Reynolds are coming in with Scotty to help out. The Meloy ship will be tapping into the phone system today and will call the base, ask for the Colonel in charge, and announce the arrival of the General tomorrow. About 9 a.m. And that all items relating to the 'incident' on the date of the crash will be taken into the custody of the General, who will escort them to Washington D.C."

"And what do we all do?"

"First, you need to inject us with the antidote to the medicated smoke grenades Spock is sending," Jim said. "He's getting the grenades made. M'Benga is sending the antidote. You will dress up as a Military Doctor and go in with Scotty. Hendorff will ride in the car with you two, as Scotty's aid. Reynolds and I have military motorcycles coming down with Scotty, and we'll be the escort. We'll have helmets and eye goggles, so no one should recognize me. We'll accompany the 'General' onto the base. Uhura and McGivers will stay at the landing site with our escape ship."

"So, basically, walk in and take him and the ship."

"Only way we can do it with the least fuss."

"When and where are we meeting?" McCoy asked.

"The restaurant closes at ten," Jim replied. "We'll all meet there at midnight, and we'll make the trip out to the drop zone together, in Sulu's car. Meet the Meloy ship, get prepped, then go from there."

"And if we're all fortunate, whatever chaos we create will be forgotten in a few days," McCoy said. "That seems to be what happens in situations the enclosure didn't plan for."

"In the meantime, I'll get a message to Spock about the trenwalli and have Biology figure out what the hell's going on. If we're lucky, your new pet will follow us home, then we can figure out what to do about her."

"I hope she stays hidden when it all goes down," McCoy said.

"So do I," Jim said with heartfelt sincerity. "But we'll tell the others about her on the way to the landing site. That way, if she appears, she won't be a distraction unless we want her to be."

Jim lifted up his watch and started the multi-button press that would connect him with the Meloy ship.

"I'd better get Spock informed and alert the others to our meeting time."

"I'll call in sick to the hospital," McCoy said. "You have change for the payphone downstairs? All I have are bills."

Jim nodded and dug through his pockets.

McCoy made his call, and since Jim was still in the process of sending orders to Spock, decided to make use of the tub. He gathered his things and headed for the shared bathroom.

He tried not to take too long, hoping Jim might decide to stay.

_He's tired, and can make contact with everyone from here. Hopefully, we can get more downtime. Together._

Once back to his room, he found Jim stretched out on his bed, relaxing.

Jim's lecherous smile told McCoy he had decided to stay, they had time, and Jim had an idea of how to spend it.

McCoy didn't say anything. He figured his grin said it all.

Standing by the bed, McCoy slowly took off his robe. Nude, the heat of the day no longer felt so bad. The open window was too high up to let anyone else see in.

Jim smiled and looked McCoy up and down. His smile grew from lustful to hungry in a couple of beats of his heart.

"God, I miss you when we're separated," Jim said solemnly, his voice soft. "I feel like I've been ripped apart, and the best part of me is missing."

McCoy took a step forward. "Miss you too, Love."

McCoy felt his cock was firming, and Jim reached out for him.

"C'mere," Jim said, his face serious. "I need you. I need to make you cum."

McCoy took another step closer, putting himself in Jim's personal space.

Jim grabbed McCoy's hips and pulled him closer, burying his face in McCoy's crotch. Breathing on him. As McCoy grew to maximum firmness, Jim started in on his balls, licking and nipping the sensitive skin. When McCoy caught himself drifting off with the sensations, he pushed Jim gently away.

"A sixty-nine," McCoy said, holding out a hand to pull Jim up. "I want you at the same time. I need to see you. My sheets need to smell like you. I miss that."

Jim was flushed now, in a pattern McCoy had come to memorize. Across Jim's cheeks, in splotches on his neck, as Jim's body reacted to him. But it was Jim's eyes, heavy and hooded with desire, his pupils full and dark, the irises now thin rings of sky that firmed McCoy's cock even more.

All the coolness left McCoy's body as his own flush heated him up. McCoy reached out to take Jim's head in his hands, fingers cupping the back of his head. He pulled Jim in roughly.

They kissed, bruisingly, Jim's clothed body rough and hard against McCoy's bare skin. Jim's arms wrapped around him, pulling him crushingly close.

They kissed for so long McCoy felt as if they could never be parted. Jim's hands wandered up and down McCoy's back and the top of his buttocks, kneading and pulling almost painfully.

Jim pressed his clothing trapped cock against McCoy's engorged, free one and McCoy caught Jim's small whimper at the back of his own throat.

He pushed Jim back and started undressing him. The clothing was basic, the fit bad, and the fastenings simple. But McCoy took his time, tasting bits of Jim's neck as it was exposed. Nibbled a bit of shoulder, and the curve of a peck. Then Jim's pants were unzipped and pushed down. Jim's cock sprang up, finally free.

Then McCoy knelt and removed Jim's feet from the tangle of clothing trapping them. Going to his knees, McCoy pulled Jim closer, returning the favor of heat and caress of tongue and mouth on Jim's balls and cock.

McCoy kept it up, enjoying the thick, heady smell of his love. The firmness of blood-engorged shaft under flushed and tender skin. He nuzzled Jim's ball sac, just the way they both liked it. Breathing and licking at sensitive spots.

"Bones," Jim groaned, his fingers in McCoy's hair. "Together."

They lay on their side on the narrow bed. McCoy was mindful of the sounds of springs and was glad that his neighbors weren't due home yet.

Cock to mouth, they both took each other in. It wasn't the best position to hit the tender underside of the glans, but they weren't in a real rush.

McCoy stopped thinking. He was torn between the sensations on his cock, demanding his attention, and his need to make Jim feel just as good. McCoy adored this sharing. This sex that was so much more than sex. A real celebration and joy in being together. Of loving. Of being loved and desired. Of claiming and being claimed. Needing and needed.

But, like always, there was only so much a human body could take before it demanded completion. Before the need became a necessary goal.

McCoy, his hand firmly on Jim's hips, signaled this need with the grip of his hands. He held still, holding Jim's cock in his mouth, but not sucking.

Jim shifted, taking McCoy deeper, his throat creating an unbelievable pressure that hit McCoy like a sledgehammer.

With a jolt he came, his body struggling and desperate for release.

Several waves of pleasure later, McCoy was just coming down from his natural high when he realized Jim had carefully released him, and he still had Jim's cock in his mouth. Concentrating on it, he worked Jim enthusiastically, until Jim gasped and make the same helpless, pleading sounds McCoy must have made just minutes ago. Then, at Jim's signal, McCoy took him deep, holding the tight suction that forced Jim over the edge.

When Jim came it was hard, and McCoy gloried in the sounds of deep pleasure Jim made.

Sensing when Jim had calmed, McCoy released Jim's cock, careful not to swallow while the now super sensitive glans were near his tongue. Too much contact at this point would irritate rather than please.

Jim laughed as McCoy gave his spent but still hard cock a kiss as he sat up.

Since Jim's head was on McCoy's pillow, McCoy moved up to join him. They were both sweaty now, but it was a good sweat, they smelled like each other.

McCoy on his right side, Jim turned on his left, and they shared the ends of the pillow, face to face.

Jim's face seemed to glow and looked as if he shared the happiness that McCoy felt.

Jim draped his free arm over McCoy's waist, leaving a gap between them. They were both too hot now to be skin to skin, with Jim's usual drape over McCoy's body.

The sounds of the busy city outside were almost peaceful, for all it was loud. People were safe and going about their business, for the moment.

"We have time for a nap," Jim said quietly. "I've set the alarm on the watch. We should be gone before most of your neighbors come home."

"Good," McCoy said. "I needed you."

"Needed you too."

They kissed again. It was slow, and tender, and not about sex.

It was about love.

And somewhere in there, McCoy fell asleep, feeling like the most precious object in the universe.

 

***

 

 

The five of them stood once again in the darkness of the forest, eyes on the open space hidden from the highway. No one had their flashlights on. The Meloy ship wouldn't need any light to land.

_At least the weather forecasts are usually correct,_ McCoy thought. _Is the enclosure telling them what's on the schedule ahead of time, are they just guessing, or is the enclosure fulfilling the forecasts like a request?_

"That's an honest-to-goodness _crop circle_ ," McCoy said with quiet conviction as he looked over the large, round, mashed area where the Meloy ship had been landing. "Just tell me it's not."

"Well, _technically_ , it's not," Sulu said with amusement. "It's a mashed circle in some wild grass, and some flattened saplings, but it's not in a crop."

"Why would they land in a field and leave a circle?" Uhura asked. "Wouldn't that tip off the locals that something had landed?"

"Crop circles were a thing in US history for a while," Jim explained. "The UK too, if I remember right."

"They're talking about UFO folklore," McGivers said with a huff. "Flying saucers, little green men--"

"Mutilated cattle," McCoy continued. "Missing people. Taken people with missing time."

"Anal probes," Sulu added with a chuckle.

"I still say, where there's smoke, there's fire," McCoy added.

"Which the Meloy deny, and get offended by if you bring it up," Jim said, checking his watch. "So, let's not get anyone insulted, guys. They'll be touching down in thirty seconds."

Looking up into the night sky, McCoy could see the Meloy ship as it drew closer. While behind in some areas, the Meloy ship was pretty good at blending in. In some sort of reverse broadcasting, which Sulu had tried to explain, the ship took in a view of everything around them and broadcast it on the opposite side. So, it was hard to see because it didn't look like it was blocking a view.

So not invisible or using a cloaking device. Just not really noticeable unless you already knew where to look.

As it came closer, McCoy could feel a sense of it and see the slight distortion as a star wobbled here and there. But as it hit the tree-line, it became as dark as the forest behind it.

Then, out of seemingly empty space, an opening appeared, and light spilled out. A ramp that had been molded into the body of the round ship lowered.

Jim walked out to the end of the ramp. At the top, three Human shapes were silhouetted, and several smaller Meloy shapes could be seen moving behind them. The Humans stepped out and stretched as they came down to meet Jim. McCoy and the rest came to join them.

"Well, that ship is a wee bit cramped," Scotty said as they all met at the bottom of the ramp.

Reynolds and Hendorff didn't say anything, but McCoy could see by their faces that they agreed.

McCoy remembered how small the corridors and rooms were. He was glad the short-ish trip down to the surface, into the caverns and down to the enclosure could be made sitting in the corridor. A Human would have had a tough time trying to fly it themselves.

"You get everything ready?" Jim asked.

"Got it all right here," Scotty said, turning to look up the ramp, where the Meloy were bringing down boxes. "Medicated smoke bombs, uniforms, paperwork, reconstructed motorcycles freshly painted."

"And the smoke bomb antidote?" McCoy asked.

"Hand made by Doctor M'Benga himself," Scotty said. "Exactly to both your and Mr. Spock's specifications. And I also have the self-destruct code and transmitter for the Meloy craft. Shame to have to destroy it before we can take it apart to see what went wrong."

"I know, Scotty, but we'll have the pilot to talk to about that. We can't take the craft with us, we can't beam it out, we don't have time to take it apart, even if we could, and we can't leave it." Jim explained. "And the fort knows we're coming?"

"The Commander at Fort Abernathy got a phone call from the General's aid, then spoke to the General himself," Scotty said with a smile McCoy could just see in the dim light. " _Me!_ I told them that I was on my way, would be there by 9 a.m., would take an abbreviated tour and would leave with the 'Security Problem.' If I have to say so myself, I have a bonnie North American accent! They called back to confirm, just like we thought they would. The Commander himself promised an ambulance to move the 'Security Problem', to have the 'machine' on a flatbed, and we'll have a two-car escort with armed security. They even agreed to have my aid drive the ambulance, for 'security' reasons."

McCoy could see Jim wince. "More people than I was hoping to tag along."

"I did make the point that we wanted the trip back to D.C. to be as unnoticeable as possible. But figured if I insisted on just the flatbed, the ambulance, my car, and the motorcycle escort, it would sound a little fishy," Scotty said. "I think they sounded fairly happy to be getting rid of both the pilot and the craft. They seemed concerned about why no one had contacted them about it until now."

"I guess those on base, in actual contact with the Meloy, couldn't forget or ignore it," McCoy added.

"Sounds great, Scotty," Jim said. "Sulu has a chauffeur's outfit and a car to drive you in. You have that "X" tag for the windshield?"

"That, and the gas ration stickers," Scotty said happily. "We can now get all the gas we need, as befitting my rank."

"Okay, we've got a few hours to get everything unloaded and get changed," Jim said. "Uhura and McGivers will stay here."

"What's the plan with everything else?" Sulu asked. "When we get back here?"

"We'll just leave all the vehicles on the side of the road," Jim said. "The soldiers will wake up and be confused, then drive back. We know they're conditioned not to try to drive to the mountains. The Meloy craft will be in a melted lump, and we'll be gone. They can puzzle over the car and the motorcycles all they want. But I have a feeling this is far enough off of the enclosure's script that they'll forget this all happened in a few days. If not, there's not much left for them to conjecture with. Although we might need to have the Meloy find another landing spot. This location's been used a lot already."

McCoy saw Jim look up with appreciation as the two motorcycles were wheeled down the ramp.

"Scotty, these look real!" Jim exclaimed happily as he went to look them over in the light from the ship.

"They _are_ real," Scotty said proudly. "The parts were picked out of a scrapyard by the Meloy, while they were takin' samples of everything. I had to fix 'em up and fabricate a few parts, but these are Australian Puch 800's. At the start of the war, the military bought the civilian cycles straight from the factory and painted them up. Nice little machines."

When they were both parked at the end of the ramp, Jim went to sit on one.

"Scotty, you're a miracle worker," Jim said with clear appreciation as he put his hands on the handlebars.

"Ah, you should see the car I'm buildin'!" Scotty said. "She's close to being done. Figured we might need a car to use that can't be traced to any one particular owner. Should have her done in a few days. Gonna have to gut one of these Meloy ships to get her down though."

"What do you want Uhura and I to do, Captain?" McGivers asked.

"Hold down the fort, so to speak," Jim said. "The Meloy ship will be here in the daylight, so if someone comes down that dirt road before we get back, you two distract them. Keep them from blocking our way to the ship, when the convoy gets here."

"Do we have enough smoke bombs to leave with them?" McCoy asked.

"We should," Jim said.

"If someone gives us too much trouble, we can use them and hide the vehicles," Uhura said.

"I wish I was going with you," McGivers said with a sigh. "I'd love to see the inside of the base."

"The fewer of us, the better," Jim said. "We'll need you two here to carry out emergency plans and contact Spock if things go wrong."

"Go wrong? Well, you know that's _never_ gonna happen," McCoy said sarcastically. "Seriously, though, you ladies better be prepared for the worst. 'Cause you know what can go wrong probably will."

Jim looked at McCoy from the seat of the motorcycle with a wry smile.

"Bones! Ye of little faith! When has one of my plans ever gone wrong?"

"I left the list on the ship," McCoy said with a sigh. "It's too big to carry."

"Well, let's get everything ready. Scotty? Did Spock pass on the message about the flying trenwalli you need to be alert for?"

"He mentioned something," Scotty said, looking a little confused. "Said you'd brief me. Sounds like the name of a circus act!"

"Close," Jim said with a huff. "Let me fill you in."

After that, they were all too busy getting ready to worry.

 

***

 

Now, almost noon, Jim had had a bit of time to enjoy the ride of the old-fashioned motorcycle as he accompanied the General's car back to the rendezvous point. The machine was hard to steer, super heavy, and a little skittish on the breaks. But it had been enjoyable all the same. Especially since he was just minutes away from setting the last of their escape plan into motion. Soon, they would have to destroy the ship on the flatbed truck behind them, knock out the men in the two Jeeps behind that, and get the Meloy pilot out of the ambulance and through the forest for his trip home.

The pickup of the Meloy pilot and the ship had gone quickly and smoothly. So smoothly that Jim had been surprised.

Once inside the fort's fences, as the General's motorcycle escort, Jim and Reynolds had to wait on their machines, ready to leave at a moment's notice. Their papers had been accepted at the gate without being searched, the flatbed truck with its large, mysteriously covered cargo sat off to the side of the main building, under a ring of armed soldiers.

Scotty, in his General's uniform, Hendorff as his aide, and Bones dressed as a military Doctor, had been welcomed with all honor and taken inside the building. For almost an hour Jim had sat in the hot sun and sweated it out. Both literally and figuratively. Since he'd worked in the diner just down the street from the main entrance, Jim kept his helmet and goggles on and had ordered Reynolds to do the same. He didn't want to be recognized.

Which gave him a lot of time to worry, go over his plans a couple of hundred times, and to feel a bit guilty at leaving the diner in the lurch and one cook short when he didn't show up for work this morning. Maybe they thought he was sleeping off a drunk somewhere. Bones, at least, had called in sick.

When Scotty had finally come out of the building and headed for the car, Jim had almost sighed in relief. On the way to the car, Scotty had given Jim the hand sign that all was going perfectly and the Meloy in good health. The promised ambulance, driven by Hendorff and occupied by Bones and Zane, pulled out of the bay on the side of the building. Two jeeps filled with armed men came from around the corner. Their convoy was pulled into order, with the General's car first, Jim and Reynolds behind him, the ambulance, the flatbed and then the two Jeeps.

General Scotty and the base Commander said their goodbyes, and then they were on their way.

It was a nice drive out of town, and Jim enjoyed it more than he had on the way in. Even buried in the middle of an enclosure, it was enough like being in the country that it felt like Earth. Not Iowa, exactly. Not with all the forest and the mountains ringing them in like a fence. But it was pretty close to some of the other areas he'd traveled through in the past.

_Almost there! Just a few more miles. Every time I start to enjoy a trip, it comes to an end._

_I won't complain about the end of this one, though._

_Time to make our escape._

As the convoy came near their dirt road, Jim pulled his motorcycle next to the driver's side of the General's car and signaled to Sulu. Sulu nodded his understanding. Sulu sped up, as did the ambulance, trying to put as much distance between them and the flatbed and Jeeps as they could.

As they came near the turn onto the dirt road, Jim hung back to let the General's car advance and waved at Reynolds, who nodded back. They then waited for the fireworks.

The destruction of the Meloy ship started with a hard, sharp and painfully loud whine. At first, it was hard to place, but as it grew in intensity it became apparent to those in the convoy that it was coming from the Alien ship.

Reynolds gunned his machine and sped ahead of the lead car, ready to stop any oncoming traffic. Jim pulled into the oncoming lane, glad it was empty, and slowed to let the ambulance catch up. Behind them, as the sharp whine turned into a scream, the flatbed swerved violently, jack-knifing across the road behind them. The cars behind it slammed on their brakes, one sliding into the rear of the flatbed.

The ambulance and lead car spun tires as they kicked into speed, heading for the dirt road.

With the flatbed driver panicking and over-steering, the flatbed slid off the side of the road, and down a slight slope. The weight of the Meloy ship shifted, and with a mighty crash the flatbed tipped over on its side. Men piled out of the Jeeps, rifles at the ready. Jim skidded his motorcycle to a sideways stop, putting himself between his people and the soldiers.

Pulling the medicated smoke bombs out of his saddlebag, Jim threw them at the soldiers. Some were shooting wildly at the disintegrating mass of metal, which was good. It distracted them from the ambulance. Jim heard pops of gunfire mixed in with the sound of the smoke bombs discharging.

The bone-rattling screeching of the Meloy ship, now on its side, grew deafening as the ship began to pulse with light. Then, with an enormous 'bang,' one that Jim suspected burst some nearby eardrums, a bright red glow came from under the tarp, and it caught fire. Underneath, melting into one large ball of slag, the Meloy's one-man craft seemed to deflate. As the straps holding it down burned, it started rolling into the field, setting fire to the plants around it.

The smoke spread quickly, but in patches. Behind the clouds the soldiers were yelling, some running toward the melted craft to put out the fire. Other's yelled about alien attacks and started shooting Jim's way. Jim could hear some of the men behind the cloud of smoke run toward him, and the loud retort of firearms continued.

_It's not working! The knockout-gas isn't working!_

Jim cursed under his breath as some of the soldiers heading his way collapsed. But not all of them.

Several more shots rang out. Jim ducked down close to the motorcycle and glanced back and in the distance. Both cars had made good speed. But he saw the ambulance suddenly swerve a bit as it sped down the dirt road. It kept on going, but Jim could see the ambulance dip and that side start to drag.

_They got one of the tires! I need to cause a distraction!_

He turned toward the soldiers, intending to drive into the cloud and draw fire away from the ambulance and lead car. But one bullet sideswiped his helmet, and another just missed his leg as it took out the back tire of the motorcycle. Jim lost control of the heavy machine and he and the bike went tumbling off the road and into the ditch.

Jim lay stunned for a moment as he and the motorcycle lay in a tangled heap. He took a breath and pain hit him, both in his rib-cage and his left arm. He could taste blood in his mouth. He tried to move, but his limbs wouldn't work. He could hear shouting, then quiet. He wasn't sure how much time was passing.

"Jim! Jim! Don't move!"

Looking and sounding out of breath, Bones grabbed at the motorcycle handlebars and heaved, pulling it away from Jim. Then Bones was hovering over him. For a second, Jim was inclined to obey. Then reality snapped back, and he started to struggle.

_They're shooting at us! I've got to stop them from--_

" _Don't_ move!" Bones snapped as he unbuckled Jim's helmet. "They're _all_ out of it now. The knock-out gas finally kicked in."

He reached under Jim's neck, his strong fingers kneading and feeling Jim's neck and spine.

"Got away?" Jim asked sluggishly, the pain and taste of blood in his mouth making his words slurred. He'd bitten the inside of his cheek. "Ship left?"

Bones's hands were inside Jim's jacket now, under his shirt. Jim winced when he found the rib wound but had to choke back a cry when Bones bumped his arm. Bones caught that and started focusing on Jim's arm.

"Yes," Bones said distractedly as he examined Jim's arm. "We'd already made it so far down the road when you went down that I ordered them all to leave without us."

" _You_ should've been on it," Jim said with annoyance as he tried to give Bones a glare. Lying on his back, in a ditch, probably didn't give it the severity it would have had otherwise.

" _They_ didn't need me. _You_ do," Bones said with a huff as he finished checking Jim out. "Told Sulu that plan B was in place. We'll contact them for pick up. And that'll be easier for _everyone_ if you're not dead, in the hospital, or in custody."

Bones sighed and sat back on his heels, then stood, looking around. "At least you're not shot, and those ribs probably only bruised. Arm's most likely broken though. Need to put a splint on it, so don't move."

"We have to go. We can't sit here." Jim said, trying to sit up. The arm protested. He gasped and lay back down. "The ship will have to make it out to the surface before they can send another one in. That's going to take them a while, and those soldiers will be awake by then."

"See? Told you _not_ to move," Bones snapped. "I don't even have my Medkit, _damn_ it. The one I had on me started smoking as soon as the Meloy destruct signal went out. Tossed it to Reynolds to get it out of the enclosure. It's probably a hot lump of metal now."

"We need a car, to get as far away as we can," Jim said. Watching Bones, his brain started ticking down the minutes. "The military's going to be all over these woods as soon as they wake up. We can't wait there."

"Ambulance has a flat tire," Bones said with a frown. "Something went wrong with the lead car. That's why we all had to jump ship and make a run for it."

Bones then seemed to see something on the road.

"Hold tight."

He stood and jogged away out of Jim's sight.

Jim tried to sit up again, all his muscles protesting.

Bones was gone long enough that Jim started to become concerned. Just as Jim was about to push himself up, pain or no pain, to see what was happening, Bones came into view. He was jogging back, carrying a box with a red cross on it.

"Their emergency kit, off one of the Jeeps," Bones explained as he opened it up and surveyed the insides. "Let's hope there's at least the basics in here."

Bones grabbed a pair of scissors out of the box, placed them on the ground, and went back to quickly digging through it.

"We _don't_ have time for this," Jim declared with frustration, pushing with his good arm to stand up.

" _Give_ me a second!" Bones snapped. "Just because there's no bone poking through doesn't mean it's not a bad fracture. We'll move faster once it's splinted. And we're not leaving by one of those Jeeps, either. It's leaking something."

"Gasoline?" Jim asked worriedly.

"I have no idea," Bones said. He pulled two stick-like objects and a bandage roll out of the military medical kit. "I'm cutting that sleeve off and splinting that arm. Don't slow me down by fussing."

Bones worked quickly, so Jim let him, trying to think of various places they could go to wait for rescue. New landing locations. Not only for their escape but because it kept his mind off the pain of Bones wrapping his arm up.

"Done," Bones announced. "Now what?"

"Let me check the Jeeps," Jim said, pushing with his good arm to stand up. Sleeping soldiers were spread out here and there around the used smoke bombs.

One Jeep was still on the road. It was empty, keys in place. Jim slid in and tried to start it, but nothing happened. It didn't even try to turn over.

_Dead. Could be any reason why. No time to figure it out._

Jim abandoned that Jeep to look at the other. It had run into the back of the flatbed and was leaking from the radiator. The small bits of burning weeds around the huge melted slug of Meloy metal had already burnt itself out.

"Let's get back to the lead car," Jim said.

He held his splinted arm close as they jogged back down the dirt road. Jim knew they didn't have much time, so tried to move as fast as he could. Even if the soldiers were still asleep, someone was bound to come down the road from either direction and spot the chaos. It took them a few minutes to get to their abandoned cars. As they passed the empty ambulance, Jim stopped as he got a good look at the lead car. Sulu had gotten quite a ways down the dirt road, but it had been hit with gunfire as well. It was sitting sideways in the ditch at one side. It's back end half across a buried drainage pipe. The angle was wrong.

"Axel's busted," Jim announced through gritted teeth. "Must have hit it at a high speed when it slid off the road."

"Well, we're out of cars then," Bones said. "And if we knew where Reynolds dumped his motorcycle, you can't drive it, and I don't know how."

"Well, then the soldiers are out of cars too," Jim said, scanning the area. "Small blessings."

This was the third time he'd been here. The first two times had been at night. Now, in the day, he hoped to spot something they could use, or someplace they could go. On one side of the dirt road was the forest. On the other, the fenced pasture, and on the far side of the pasture was another line of trees.

"Go for the forest?" Bones asked.

"No," Jim said. "Our abandoned cars will point the soldiers straight to it. They'll be all over these woods pretty soon. We need to get further away."

He looked across the pasture. "We heard cows back there. Let's find a barn."

Jim headed for the barbed wire fence. Bones followed. Bones gingerly held two wires apart so Jim could slide through, then came through himself. Both made the trek across the large pasture quietly, saving their breaths. They reached the tree-line, and after plowing through a bit of brush, they could see a barn and house in the distance. More pasture land with a few cows between them and it.

"We're hidden. For the moment," Jim said. He took the watch off his wrist and held it out in front of him. "I'll call the Meloy. See if they've gotten out of the enclosure, and set up an alternate rendezvous."

Jim tried to make contact. But the face of the watch was frozen, and none of the hidden buttons worked.

_Damn! It's dead!_

"Check yours," Jim ordered.

Bones did, then looked at Jim and scowled. "The clock part is broken."

Bones shook his wrist, as if that would help anything, and tried to make contact with the ship.

"Nothing," Bones admitted. "Let me see if I can contact you."

Bones tried again while Jim went back to checking his own. Neither watch was working.

Bones shook his head angrily. "That self-destruct signal must have fried them _and_ the stuff in my Medkit. All of the _new_ tech we had with us."

"Or something from the ship's destruction did. Like an EMP bomb, and we must have been too close. _No one_ warned us of that," Jim said with a sigh. "We're totally out of communication now, and no way to set up a different landing location. We'll need to stay out of sight."

Jim turned to look back at the house and barn. It was another good run, but most of the field was hidden from the main highway, and he certainly had no fear of cows. They'd just have to chance it that none of them was a bull. The coast seemed clear, so they headed for it at a run.

_If we're lucky, no one's home, but they might have a spare car. With the gas rationing, people with extra cars left them behind. Too expensive to fill very often._

Two dogs, tied up out in front of the house, kicked up a fuss when they approached, but no one came out of the house to check. He and Bones headed toward the barn.

Inside was an Oldsmobile, shiny lemon yellow and new-looking. It was obviously well-cared for. But with gas rationing, it was not high on the priority list. The "A" tag on the windshield wouldn't get this massive machine very far. Especially since they didn't have the gas ration book to go with it. They could make it maybe just over 500 klicks if they were lucky and the tank full.

_Good thing this isn't really all Iowan terrain. There are a lot more forests to hide in. If this had been Iowa's flat and open landscape, we could be driving for klicks, and someone could still see us in the distance._

"Get in and turn it on, check the gas," Jim ordered, frustrated. "I won't be able to drive with this arm. No power steering yet."

" _My_ driving is scarier than _your_ driving," Bones muttered as he slid in behind the wheel. "No key. Can't tell about the gas."

"We can hot-wire it. But we can't be seen in these clothes. Let me check something."

Jim hurried to the back of the barn, where the farmer kept a table and wall full of tools. In an old trunk off to the side, Jim found some old shirts and coveralls.

"Over here!" Jim called. "We're getting changed."

They stripped out of what was left of their uniforms. Jim with much help. At least the old-fashioned coveralls were adjustable at the shoulders. They kept on their own undershirts, boxers, socks, and shoes. They still had all of their money and ID from earlier. Bones threw their wadded military uniforms up onto some planks in the rafters, out of sight.

"Do we hit the house for supplies?"

Jim shook his head. "If we're lucky, they won't notice the car's gone for a while, but they might notice a break-in right off."

After a quick lesson from Jim on how to hot-wire a car, and how to clutch and shift, Bones drove the car out of the barn, leaving Jim to struggle to close the large door one handed.

"Let's go," Jim ordered when he slipped into the passenger's seat.

Jim held his tongue as the car shuddered and jerked forward. Jim knew Bones would catch on to the right sequence if Jim just let him be.

"Where to?" Bones asked nervously, once reaching the end of the driveway.

Jim knew both of them were hoping they wouldn't meet the owners on their way in. In the distance, Jim could hear the sirens of response vehicles.

"Someone's awake, and has called for help on their radios," Jim replied, now feeling angry with himself. "Damn, it! Should have thought to destroy them. Would have bought us more time! Back to the left. We'll follow the back roads as far as we can."

"How do we know there'll be back roads?" Bones asked as he steered the heavy car to the left. His movements were so hesitant that Jim ached to trade places.

"There are _always_ back roads," Jim said. "This was Iowa. Or, at least part of it was. Just keep on driving that direction for a while. We'll figure out the next turn after we get some distance away from the crime scene."

"At least they'll be looking for more than just two of us," Bones said. Even though the road was straight, Bones had a death-grip on the steering wheel. "Maybe they'll think we all flew off."

"Almost did. Just our luck those smoke bombs didn't work right."

"Spock mess them up?"

"I doubt it," Jim admitted. "Could be anything medical with these people. Maybe the wind blew in the wrong direction. Or I didn't get them placed right."

"Yeah, well, you just need more practice at Alien breakouts," Bones flashed Jim a wry smile.

Jim forced a smile and tried to relax. The pain of his ribs and arm now beating against his head like an anvil.

He needed to think about all their options.

If they had any.

 

 


	4. Four

   

 

 ***

 

 

McCoy woke feeling like a stale, dry pretzel in the front seat of the car. It was still early morning, and the pretend sun was putting out a weak light over the tops of the mountains that shouldn't be there. He took a look over the headrest and was glad to see Jim was still asleep.

It had taken Jim hours to drift off. The meds in the military's emergency kit hadn't been anything strong or long-lasting. After probing the bone more, McCoy decided Jim had a hairline fracture. Which was good news. It didn't have to be set, and the splint would do for a while. But that didn't mean it wasn't painful. The ribs would be sore for a few days, but nothing debilitating.

Parked out of sight in a country side-road, they'd spent the night in the car. They'd decided not to stop at any houses or driveways along the way, but had pulled over at a mostly abandoned gas station. McCoy had gone in and bought some questionable food and some bottles of soda. Instead of heading for the city, they decided to keep moving in a circle. Eventually, the military would gather up their equipment and go home. Then Jim and McCoy could head back to the forest clearing and make camp if they needed to.

 _Too bad it wasn't safe to go back last night,_ McCoy thought irritably.

He rechecked his watch. It was still dead, stuck on the time the Meloy ship had self-destructed. None of the buttons worked.

_Maybe if we can find a place to hold up with tools, Jim can fix them._

He knew their people would be looking for them. And getting back to the landing site was the best bet. But there had been some patrols in the highway in that area, and they didn't dare go back last night.

He climbed out of the car, found their 'fresher' tree, and relieved himself. At least they still had money, but gas was going to be a problem. They'd emptied the soda bottles and had refilled them with water from one last stop at a station. They had part of a box of stale cookies for breakfast.

_We won't be able to stop many more times. With the way we look, in these coveralls, no showers, no combs or shaving kits, people are going to report us as being vagrants._

Done, he'd just turned back to the car when he saw her.

Bell was floating in mid-air, glowing like a soft night light. He stood still, then raised his hand, forefinger offered as a perch. She flew close to him and landed.

He could see her, but she was so light he didn't think he could feel her on his finger at all.

**[papa, hungry, moving, unhappy?]**

"Am I hungry, or are you?" McCoy asked softly.

**[papabell, hungry]**

"You know your name?" McCoy asked with a smile. "I guess you mean both of us. Let's see if you like cookies."

"Is that her?" Jim asked softly from the back seat of the car.

He was leaning up against the door, good arm on the top of the doorframe with the window rolled down. Jim's eyes were wide, McCoy could see there was surprise and sincere interest overriding the pain.

"Yeah, this is Bell." McCoy looked back at Bell, whose wings never seemed to stop fluttering. "Bell? You meet Jim?"

McCoy tried to push a picture of Jim toward Bell, hoping if she could communicate thoughts and feeling she could see images as well.

Bell suddenly flew up, then made a beeline for Jim. She paused just a couple of feet from the door. Jim, eyes wide, held still.

**[sibling]**

The thought wasn't a warm and fuzzy one. It was one born of the competition of siblings for resources in the wild. It came across more as 'competitor' than as a familial relationship.

" _Safe_ ," McCoy said softly. "He's _safe_. Jim? Put your finger out for her to land on. See if you can communicate with her. She's wary of you. You're a sibling, not a protector. You could fight her for resources."

While Bell hovered, Jim did as McCoy asked.

She flew forward slowly, then landed on his finger.

Suddenly Jim smiled. "She said something along the lines of giving her food to prove I'm safe."

"Thought so," McCoy said, smiling. "You touched the egg like I did. Only I did it more. So, I became the parent, and you became the sibling."

"Well, if she can come and go as she pleases, then she shouldn't be in danger," Jim said. "And nothing we could do about it here anyway."

Bell left Jim's finger but hovered close. Jim reached for the box of cookies, awkwardly fished one out one-handedly, and held it out to her.

She landed on it. McCoy took a few steps closer, watching her sample it.

Bell jumped off, then flew over to McCoy. Still so silent that you had to see her to realize she was there.

**[unhappy, papa, food]**

She popped out of sight.

"Where the hell is she going?" Jim asked with unfettered curiosity. "How does she do that?"

"Looks like we'll have something to do when we get back to the ship," McCoy said with a sigh. "If she even follows me there."

Suddenly Bell popped back into view. Only she seemed to be carrying something small, but weighty. When she flew toward McCoy, he held out his hand, palm up.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

Bell deposited the item on his palm.

**[papa, happy, food]**

Bell then jumped away, did an enthusiastic spiral, and disappeared again.

"What is it?" Jim asked again, opening the car door.

"It's a raspberry. I think. I guess she doesn't like processed food but goes for fruit."

Jim came over to look.

"She transported not only herself but a solid object from somewhere, to here? Bones, that's _huge_!"

"It's cold, but not frozen, " McCoy said, taking it between the fingers of his other hand.

"She's feeding her father," Jim sighed and gave McCoy a wry look. "You've just gotten a pet. On a ship that doesn't allow any."

"Yeah... well," McCoy said with a frown. "If they can catch her, maybe they can _make_ me do something about that. Maybe not. Could be she's sentient enough to qualify as a dependent."

"You going to eat that? I think they _are_ coming into season now."

McCoy shook his head. "I should, being a gift and all. But I'll tell her I'm saving it for later if she asks. Or even remembers. Heaven only knows where it's been."

"Good point," Jim said, then tried to move around McCoy, heading for their 'fresher tree.

McCoy reached out, pulled Jim in. He reached over to cup Jim's cheek and guide his head down so he could put his lips against Jim's forehead.

"No fever. How's the pain?"

"It hurts. But I'll be okay. We can't worry about it. We'll need to decide where to spend our day. Make another pass near the landing site tonight."

"Another fun road trip," McCoy sighed as he headed back to the car to snag a drink of water and some cookies before they hit the road once again. "Man, I'm really starting to miss that stupid transporter."

"You and me both."

He dug out the emergency kit again and put the raspberry in the corner. No use getting it all squashed up or tossing it.

It _was_ a love offering, after all.

 

***

 

 

Jim one-handedly splashed water from the gas station bathroom sink onto his face. It wasn't really a commercial bathroom, but one for the single attendant.

 _We've made too many stops here,_ Jim thought tiredly.

Now, with it just hours past noon, they'd been making the travel circles smaller and smaller. They'd run out of gas eventually, and this station's attendant was giving them the evil eye, with them not buying any gas. They were strangers and were hanging around too much.

_But we can't go too far away. Or stay parked in the same place for too long. And we can't ask about the commotion we caused yesterday. I don't want us to look any more suspicious than we do._

_If they are programmed to forget anything not on the schedule, how long does that take?_

The pain was not as severe as it had been this morning. But Jim knew it was wearing him down. They had to be sparing with their cash, and the food they'd had so far was crap.

_Just one more evening, then swing on over. Check out the landscape. Make sure it's dark, or the owners of the car could see us and call authorities, if they haven't already._

_We just need them to have given up and left._

But Jim knew it was a gamble. For all he and Bones knew, the military was still camped out there, waiting for another UFO to come flying down. Or want to pick up the trail of the one that had escaped.

_I wonder who they think the rest of us really were? Aliens in human form? Or mind controlled? That would be ironic._

_If they could weave this into some sort of complex Japanese plot, they have better imaginations than I do._

Feeling better after splashing his face with water, Jim left the small room and headed toward the back of the station. It looked more like a collection of work sheds than a gas station and had room in the back to park.

When he rounded the corner, three things happened all at once.

He saw Bones standing by the Oldsmobile, hands in the air, looking concerned.

He saw a Sherriff with his gun pointed at Bones.

And he heard the racking of a shotgun behind him.

Jim froze, slowly holding up his right hand.

"You get that other hand up," the man behind him said. The man sidled to the side, and Jim could see he was a Sherriff as well.

"It's _broken_ ," Bones said.

"Oh? Well isn't that a shame? You boys are outta luck now, aren't you," the Sheriff beside Jim said with an amused tone. "When Bob here called us about you two hanging out and acting strange, we'd already been lookin' for this car for weeks. Figured the thieves would run out of gas, eventually. Should'a run for another state while you were at it."

 _Weeks ago,_ Jim thought with frustration. _This car was stolen **weeks** ago._

_We stole a **stolen** car._

Jim just gave Bones a slight one-shouldered shrug, telling him not to cause a fuss. Not with two guns trained on them.

"You got us, guys," Jim said pleasantly. "We'll go peacefully."

 _Better the Sherriff's cell than a military one,_ Jim thought, trying not to make a move or wince as his hands were forcefully pulled behind his back to be handcuffed, in spite of the splint.

_Maybe in a few days, they'll forget what they arrested us for._

_I just hope the others can find us._

_And soon._

 

***

Three Days Later

***

 

 

Jim lay on the hard cell bed, eyes on the ceiling. He had just finished counting the water stains and mentally connecting the holes in the ceiling tiles, to recreate as many Earth constellations as he could. He'd have to see if he could recreate some Denevian ones. Most civilizations that could see stars had constellations and stories to go with them. Now he'd wished he'd paid more attention to them. His game would have lasted longer. Or had been more challenging.

 _So, what's the pros and cons of our incarceration?_ Jim thought. _I haven't played that game in a while. First, the cons._

The first con was that they'd been in the Sherriff's small jail cell for almost three days now. They'd missed two more rendezvous at the landing site, and in several hours would miss another. Unless someone from the crew busted, bonded, or bailed them out, they'd be spending the night again. Jim figured they might be a little hard to find. So, it could be a while longer.

The second con was that Bones refused to have sex with him in jail. Yes, they had three solid walls around them, no vid surveillance, and the night deputy that sat at the desk in full view of all three cells tended to fall asleep at his desk for a couple of hours each night. But every time Jim tried to give him _'the look'_ Bones countered with the _'Oh **hell** no, James Tiberius Kirk! Are you **crazy**_?!' look, which outranked Jim's best _'come hither'_ smile.

Bones grumbled that he didn't want 'perverted acts' to go on his arrest record, separate them, or make their bail any higher. The inmates on either side, when they had any, probably wouldn't appreciate being shuffled around, and Jim should just be glad they were allowed the same cell.

It was a shame about the lack of sex, though.

Not that he'd really expected Bones to indulge him, but it was worth a shot. And it was fun to pester him over it. It was something to do.

Of course, part of Bones's reaction could be related to the next con point. Which was that the Sheriff's office only did laundry once a week. The Sherriff and Deputies were nice guys, and sorry about that, but it was the chance you took when doing something bad enough to get put in their cells. They were used to drying out drunks and sending them home the next day. Not hosting car thieves who couldn't make bail.

Also, there was the con of both cell beds being really hard. Which, for some reason, Bones was not taking as a challenge to be overcome.

And then the con that with two phone calls between them when they were booked, to inform family, friends, or lawyers of their location, neither one could think of anyone it was safe to call. And with their watches confiscated along with their other personal items, he couldn't even tinker with them to try to call the Meloy ship.

_Not such a bad list, I guess. Could be worse. Now the pros._

The first pro was that the Sherriff's office saw no need to call the military for car thieves, and they were now out of the city's jurisdiction. Better _here_ than a military jail, under interrogation, or in a crowded city facility. The guys here didn't care who they were, or why they'd stolen that car. So, the odds of them being recognized as being part of the group that rescued the Meloy pilot were pretty nil. Although he imagined Spock would come up with a reasonably realistic number as to that happening.

_Maybe I should take that as a challenge. Give me something new to do. Then Spock and I can compare numbers when we get rescued._

The second pro was that they'd had bail set, so if they could get a lot of money, they would be released pending trial. They could just walk off and not come back.

The third pro was that Jim had a brand new, old-fashioned plaster cast on his arm. If he dug out a chip of the cement wall, he could start scratching art scenes in the plaster. Maybe some famous masterpiece he could remember. Perhaps a fantasy scene. That would take a bit of time and careful planning. You don't want to rush true art.

_Too bad they wouldn't let Bones cast it. I could tell he was disappointed. But they did let him watch, not that it was all that interesting._

That would have been expecting a bit much of them, since Bones couldn't admit he was a doctor. Or that he had walked away from a nursing job. The farther they stayed away from Printsville, the better.

The fourth pro was that he and Bones, and the other two prisoners on either side of them, were allowed to wash and shave. And they got fed. It wasn't a lot, but it was better than what they could get on the run. Although putting dirty clothes back on after washing up kind of negated the washing up part.

The last, but not insubstantial item on the pro side was that Bell had not shown up.

As a diversion, she would have been helpful. But it wasn't the kind of distraction they were ready to use to their advantage. Not yet. Maybe in a few days they could use the terror of insect infestations to get them out of the cell. Then they could overpower the older night guard and steal his car, then take off. If they could get Bell to co-operate and get her to arrive at night. It was a plan. Not a great plan, but there.

Jim had asked Bones if he'd been mentally warning her off. He said if so, it wasn't done consciously. But now that he thought about it, he'd give it a try.

_How fun would that be, to pop in and out whenever we wanted? I wonder what kind of information she'll let us get from her, if she ever shows up on the ship again._

Jim sighed and sat up. This boredom was even worse than being stuck in the MedBay.

Across from him, Bones was sitting on his jail bed, re-reading an ancient magazine. Not just ancient because it was from old Earth, and an original piece, and probably worth millions of credits on Earth's collectors markets. But because it was old even for 1942. They had _three_ magazines, courtesy of a friendly Deputy, and Jim had them all memorized. Even though he had no idea who any of the articles and pictures were about. Movie stars apparently. He'd have to look them up when he got back to the ship.

_The Deputy's in the other room. Maybe time for another try._

Jim leaned forward, adjusting his cast out of the way. He smiled at Bones.

Didn't say anything, just smiled. His evil, sexy smile.

Bones, feeling he was being watched, looked up. He frowned.

" _Damn it_ , Jim," Bones said quietly, going back to his magazine. "I'm having you neutered when we get back to the ship. Every slow minute you have, you think about sex."

"Which is why it's a good thing being a Starship Captain keeps me busy," Jim said with a soft laugh. "And you love it."

"In the _right_ place, at the _right_ time," Bones said, eyes on his magazine.

"Liar," Jim said with another evil smile. "You have an evil, lecherous soul, Leonard McCoy. You just need the right encouragement to let it all out."

" _No_. Just _no_ ," Bones said with a growl, not looking at Jim, "The next cast you're getting is one around your dick. That thing's got to be broken to need so much attention."

Jim chuckled.

_Okay, on to my next project. Will that tin cup make a good percussion instrument? I have a lot of surfaces to test it out on. If I--_

His thoughts were interrupted when he heard the door to the outer office open. Hard not to, when it had a bell attached.

He heard some voices, and suddenly perked up.

"Bones!" Jim hissed. "Be ready!"

Bones put his magazine down and tried to look uninterested in the sounds outside. Jim did the same.

Suddenly the door between the front office and the back opened, and Uhura strode through, a handkerchief held to her face. A Deputy was behind her. Deputy John was an older man, close to retirement. Jim liked him, so tried not to be a pain on John's shift.

Uhura was a 1942 vision in style and grace. She was dressed in a dark grey and white polka-dot skirt that fell just below her knees. The bit of flare at the bottom gave it a bit of flowing movement as she moved. It was tucked close to her waist with a wide belt. She wore a short jacket that matched her skirt and didn't go to her waist or meet across her chest. Jim knew from the magazines it was called the 'bolero' style. Under it was a white blouse with a round collar.

Her hair was rolled up into two large twists on the top of her head, and with the rest left to fall down the back of her head, to rest on her shoulders with large curls at the ends. Jim had seen the style called 'Victory rolls', and it suited her. A small, black pillbox hat sat stylishly on her head, just off center. A petite white fabric flower on it matched her shirt. She also had on dark shoes in the current style, neat white gloves, and makeup of the period tastefully applied.

 _She's a lot prettier than any of those women in the magazines,_ Jim thought happily. _She always cleans up well. Especially when she's coming to our rescue. This will be interesting._

With her white handkerchief to her mouth, she stomped in a lady-like fashion over to their cell, ignoring the two others. Jim and Bones stood to meet her.

"That's him!" Uhura said with anger as she pointed to Bones. "That's my fiancée'. Oh, Leonard Jones! How _could_ you?"

Bones seemed taken aback for a moment. Then he looked contrite and gave her a small shrug, his hands on the bars between them.

"It _wasn't_ my fault. I swear!"

"Oh, you _always_ say that," Uhura said plaintively. She turned to Deputy John. "He _always_ says that."

Deputy John nodded with sympathy. "Yes, Ma'am, they sure do."

"Him and his _friend_ ," Uhura said tearfully, with a small but dainty sniffle. She turned to glare at Jim. "And don't look at me like that, James Reynolds! I know perfectly well what a bad influence you are."

Jim tried to look contrite.

"Do you _know_ what I had to do to get bail for you two? I had to pawn the bit of silver my grandmother left me. If she knew, she'd be heart-broken. But it wasn't enough!"

Uhura dabbed at the corners of her eyes and turned back to Bones. "I had to pawn my engagement ring!"

"Oh," Bones said, trying his best to look sheepish. "I'm sorry, Darlin'!"

"Oh, you _will_ be," Uhura snapped. "The only reason I'm putting up bail for your friend is so I can take you both back and make sure you both stick close to home. I want both of you where I can see you, and put you to some soul-cleansing work on the farm."

Then she looked back at Deputy John.

"You can rest assured they will be back for the trial," she told him. "I'm getting that ring back!"

"I believe you, Ma'am," Deputy John said solemnly. "You'll just know to keep a closer eye on him next time. All most of these hoodlum's need is a good woman to set them straight. He's lucky to have you."

"Thank you, Sir," she said with a sigh. "I will certainly attempt to set him as straight as it's possible for him to be. Can we go now? Leonard and I have a lot to discuss, and a long trip home."

"Bail's paid in full, so they're free to go," Deputy John said, pulling up the keys off the keyring on his belt. "Don't forget to keep that receipt safe. That and the receipts for the pawned items."

"I will, Deputy. Thank you."

Jim and Bones stepped back as the door was opened.

"You boys follow me to the front, and I'll dig out your box of personal items," Deputy John said as he stepped back and let Jim and Bones walk out.

He gave Bones a glare. "Now you give this poor little lady a kiss and count your blessings young man."

"Yes, Sir!"

Bones stepped up to Uhura, took her gloved hands in his, pulled her in and gave her a peck on the lips.

"I'm sorry, Darlin'. I'll try to walk the straight and narrow from now on."

"As long as I get my ring back, you'll be forgiven."

All four of them walked out the door to the front office. Then the three of them stood patiently while Deputy John gave their wallets, watches, ID, and change back. They'd already been signed out.

Jim had to fight not to smile with relief, or at Uhura's show.

Walking out the door, Jim saw a light blue car waiting for them. Sulu was at the wheel. They all piled in, with Jim in the front with Sulu, and Bones and Uhura in the back.

Jim sighed as they pulled away and onto the main road.

" _Damned glad_ to see you guys," Bones said happily.

"Great to see you too," Sulu said with a smile. "Took a bit of work to find you."

"Everyone get back okay?" Jim asked.

"Everyone's fine. The Meloy pilot went home, in good shape." Sulu shook his head. "And we think the military has forgotten about us already. It's strange."

"But wasn't it taking a chance to have Uhura come and get us?" Bones asked. "A colored woman with a white fiancée would turn more than a few heads here."

"That's another part of the news we have to tell," Uhura said. "Two days ago, after our escape, everyone woke up and all the "No Coloreds" signs were taken down and trashed. From what we can tell, from all over the enclosure. They don't even seem to remember what the signs were for."

"They woke up with a new _world_ view?" Jim asked, surprised. He twisted on the bench seat to look at Uhura and Bones in the back. " _Overnight_? Just like that?"

"That would make sense, if they really are having their 'attitudes adjusted' artificially," Bones said thoughtfully. "If I was all powerful and found human toys to play with, I do all the reprogramming while they slept."

"So, I volunteered, feeling it was fairly safe," Uhura said with a smile. "He didn't even notice my color."

Then she laughed. "Besides. I owed this to Len."

"Owed this to me?" Bones asked, sounding and looking as confused as Jim felt.

" _Risa_ ," Uhura said.

Bones blinked, then seemed to catch on. They both laughed.

"Okay," Bones said to Uhura with a grin. "I'll call us even. I _knew_ you'd have to bail Jim and I out of jail someday."

 _Whatever that story is, I haven't heard it,_ Jim thought with amusement. _That'll be fun when I work it out of Bones._

"So, what do you think the Preserver's plan is, ultimately?" Jim asked. "What does Spock think?"

"In order to get the populace ready to colonize their new world, and mentally prepared for their isolation from all they knew, they'd be conditioned to work together to the fullest extent," Sulu said, in what was a dry imitation of Spock. "In other words, to survive and prosper, they'll have to work as a group. They can't do that with hate and race prejudice keeping them segregated into separate camps."

"You didn't tell them the other part," Uhura said, leaning forward to address Sulu.

"Oh, yeah," Sulu said. "This morning the radio news broadcast from Washington D.C. is that General Dwight D. Eisenhower arrived in London, to meet with the Germans and the Japanese envoy to conduct peace talks. The Japanese have agreed to discuss pulling out of Burma. Signs are looking good for a truce, with all nations now realizing that the cost of war looks to be untenable for everyone."

"And I take it that that didn't actually happen on Earth?" Bones asked.

"Not even close," Uhura said. "This culture thinks it's June of 1942. The war didn't end until September 2nd, 1945."

"So, the program is starting to wind the war down," Jim said. "Good news for the populace, but that may mean that the program expects them to be ready for colonization of this planet a lot sooner than it can be terraformed. The Meloy messed up the timing somehow."

"That's what the Federation is worried about," Uhura said.

"Well, maybe we can come up with some answers," Jim said hopefully.

"By the way, did you all steal this car?" Bones asked. "'Because it'd be nice to make it to the rendezvous spot this time. At a leisurely pace."

"This," Sulu said with a smile, "is _Scotty's_ car. The one he refurbished from the junk parts the Meloy picked up in their study of the system."

"No kidding?" Jim said, looking around appreciatively.

"He's even given it an 'X' tag," Uhura pointed out. "Just in case we needed to do a lot of traveling and needed unlimited access to gas. Ration stamps in the glove compartment, replaceable at any time."

"That man is a _genius_ ," Jim said, settling back with a sigh. "Too bad I have to bust him down to Lieutenant Commander from General."

"I don't think that'll bother him," Uhura said with a laugh. "He has more car parts he wants to restore for Federation use. Being a General would be too much paperwork."

The rest of the trip to the rendezvous was spent on ship's chit-chat, and Jim was never so glad for the comfort of small talk as he was now.

 

 

***

 

 

Jim and Spock took their lunch trays to the far corner table, where Uhura, Bones, and Chekov were already eating. The room was crowded, and it took them a few minutes. Uhura and Bones had saved them seats next to them. Jim settled in quickly, glad that the cast was long gone and hungry because he'd not had a chance to eat since they got back six hours ago.

"Sorry we're late," Jim said, picking up his fork. "Scotty coming?"

"Mr. Scott is going to spend his mealtime working on another car," Chekov said around a bit of food. "He ees very, very invested in putting together and refurbishing as many of them as possible, for use in the enclosure."

"How're all the meetings going?" Bones asked.

"They're going," Jim said with a sigh. "Everyone has questions, and there are not nearly enough answers to be helpful. We don't know for sure if the Meloy messed up the timing of the population's reanimation, or there was some other reason for it."

"The timing seems to support that theory," Spock said.

"As to what to do," Jim said, "that will be hotly debated by the Federation for a while. Right now, most believe the Meloy surveillance and entrance into the enclosure had caused the _'End Program'_ for the colonization of the planet. No one knows how much time was supposed to be given for those inside to adjust.”

Jim shrugged. “So, the Federation and the Meloy are going to start manually terraforming the surface and give it a kick start. If we have to evacuate or supply 80,000 people because they can't survive on their own, then maybe we at least give them a planet to look forward to. If not in their lifetimes, maybe in their grandkids. I think what will have to happen is that we set up our own dome on the surface where they'll exit the enclosure when it's time, and terraform inside. We can do that a lot quicker than a whole planet. Give them a way to support themselves and see their new world emerge. Then work on the rest with them. Along with education and a lot of mental health professionals to ease them into it."

"So, that's what the _UFP Devotion_ is coming to do?" Bones asked.

Jim nodded. "Long-term space station. To join the Meloy. They'll watch out for the Humans and keep an eye on their progress."

"Will they be doing more digging into the Preserver technology?" Uhura asked.

"Not directly, at the moment," Jim said. "The bottom half of the bubble is still unscannable. But there were supplies being loaded into trucks in the mountain tunnels. Then trucked out to the rest of the population. Do those truck drivers know where all these supplies are coming from? Could we sneak in to see? Will they have regular seasons, such as fall and winter? And how often will the program be messing with the minds of the locals?"

"I don't like that mind control issue," Bones said with a frown at his meal. "Intelligent beings are _not_ zoo animals or computers. Their minds should not be played with."

"While I agree with you, Doctor," Spock said evenly, "their situation could prove disastrous if interfered with, without some preparation for their mental wellbeing. They are enclosed, in a limited space, with uncertain food and material resources. Should they realize this before outside resources are put in place to assist, panic could ensue. Riots. Many deaths. I would rather see their mental wellbeing artificially managed until a solution is found."

"Like giving a sedative, when someone is having a panic attack," Jim said. "It's an artificial calmness, but it'll get your patients through a bad spell."

"Yeah, I know," Bones said with a sigh. "But I don't like it. Is this how they transplanted the other civilizations?"

"We don't know," Jim said.

"We do not even know if this was done by the Preservers," Spock said. "We have never been able to prove that any of the other seemingly transplanted civilizations were done by the same beings."

"But why them?" Bones asked. "Why that time period? What did they have that those we're calling the Preservers wanted to save?"

Spock put down his fork and sat back.

"It is only a theory, Doctor, but it's been put forth that they may have been trying to save humanity in general. In August of 1945, the US dropped two nuclear bombs on the main island of Japan, putting an end to the war. There was much worry at the time that other nations would develop and use the technology in retaliation. By removing a small bit of the populace out to a safe location, then the human race could eventually continue once the new world was able to support them."

"And by doing so secretly," Chekov said, "they weren't _really_ interfering with Earth, or how history would play out."

"Unless they removed someone who was going to _save_ the world," Bones grumbled.

"True." Jim nodded. "And, we can't be sure that there aren't similar enclosures, from other Earth countries, ready to wake up. Eventually. They could be spread out across the whole universe, and we'll never meet them."

"Or, they'll be so different by the time we do run across them, we won't realize they originated on Earth," Uhura said. "Technology changes us so quickly. Every generation is a bit different. It all builds up over time."

"So, we're just going to watch and wait?" Bones asked.

Jim shrugged. "All we _can_ do right now. The _Devotion_ will do everything they can to figure out what's going on. Which reminds me, we're even losing one of our crew to the _Devotion_."

"Marla McGivers," Uhura said with certainty. "She really wants to go back and live there. Become a librarian. Be a part of the population."

"I've approved her request for transfer," Jim said. "I can't blame her for wanting to stay and see it all play out. And she's a great resource. The _Devotion_ has some Earth historians on it now. But McGivers will be able to give them a huge jump start when they get here and set up permanent orbit. I wouldn't be surprised to see her leading the on-site team soon after they get one set up. She--"

Suddenly, in the middle of the table, Bell appeared.

With the exception of Bones and Jim, everyone at the table froze in surprise. Around them, the Galley went silent as everyone became aware of the strange being. Some got out of their chairs, ready to help or follow orders.

Jim raised his hand so that everyone in the room could see him and know he was aware of the situation.

"Captain?" Someone behind him asked with concern.

"It's _all right_ ," Jim announced in his Captain's voice. "She's _not_ dangerous. I'll be issuing a statement soon. You can go about your business."

Jim could hear the sighs of relief and feel everyone's eyes on them, but that was okay.

"Is that her?"

"How did she do that?"

Chekov and Sulu talked over each other. Uhura looked surprised. Jim didn't turn to see how Spock reacted, because he was watching Bones.

"C'mere, Bell," Bones said, holding up a finger. Bell flitted to him.

"Everyone," Jim said to those at the table, "this is the new little family member, Bell, that we told you about."

"That's the nibblet?" Sulu asked, shocked. "The one that was dying?"

"The one that was _metamorphosing_ ," Bones said, smiling at Bell as she sat on his finger. "We just _thought_ she was dying."

"How does she do that?" Chekov asked again, with wide-eyed interest. "She was not there, then she was."

"The Captain has asked me to look into this," Spock said. "But I am just now seeing her for the first time. I am also intrigued by her method of locomotion."

"I've got Commander Chinn and Lieutenant Belanty researching it now," Jim said. "But there is some folklore on the subject of the _Drammonden Dragon_ , considered children's stories. Apparently, in their past, it was said that children who found a Dragon and raised it were blessed. And if scared or in trouble, the Dragon would appear to help them. But as they grew older, they'd see it less and less, until it left to live out its life among the stars."

"She's _lovely_ ," Uhura said, looking enchanted. "Is she sentient?"

"Without tests, I'd say more than a dog, but not as much as a primate," Bones said with a smile, his eyes on Bell. "She's telepathic in some way. She's telling me she's hungry, and it's crowded here."

Jim saw Spock's eyebrow go up at the telepathy information.

"What we're surmising, from the records, is that she's somehow interdimensional, telepathic, and vegetarian," Bones said.

"And Bones is her Papa," Jim said with a shake of his head. "Until we can figure out how to catch and contain her without harm, there's nothing much we can do about her. I'm going to put out an announcement as soon as I get on the bridge to explain the situation. To report any and all sightings and movements, but not to try to harm or capture her. She could, at any time, just leave and never come back. Bones is not exactly a child in harm's way."

"Oh, Len?" Uhura asked eagerly. "Will she come to me?"

"I don't know," Bones said. "Let me try something."

Jim watched as Bones closed his eyes and concentrated. After a second, Bell flew from his finger and hovered in the center of the table again.

"I tried to tell her you're _all_ siblings, like Jim is," Bones said. "I don't think she has many words or concepts of family or friends. Maybe she'll come to you on her own. But she didn't seem all that impressed with the idea of more siblings."

They all watched as Bell hovered for a moment, then flew toward Jim. He held out his finger, but she landed on his plate instead.

She grabbed at a grape with her appendages.

**[hungry, mine, take]**

She picked it up, then flew up in a spiral over their table and disappeared. Chatter in the Galley rose as people who saw expressed their surprise.

"Uh... I think she just stole my grape," Jim said with amusement. "She said she was hungry, it was hers, and she was taking it. It almost sounded like a dare for me to follow her and take it back."

"Oh, great," Bones muttered. "Sibling rivalry already."

"Well, I'm going to keep a bowl of small bits of fruit out in my cabin from now on," Uhura said with a smile as she rose and picked up her tray. "I didn't grow up with folktales that included fairies, but that doesn't mean I don't believe."

She smirked at Bones. "I know _Tinker Bell_ when I see her."

"Just keep us informed," Jim said as she walked away.

"I can't believe you found a Drammonden Dragon," Sulu said with a shake of his head. "I'm sure Commander Chinn is beside himself with the discovery of a new species."

"He was pretty thrilled," Bones said. "Although he and Lieutenant Belanty knew something was up. They were studying the egg while Jim and I were gone. She went to check in on it after we left and thought it had died when it read as having no life-signs. But it was too light when she took it out of my terrarium to dispose of it. The darn thing had hatched, but without breaking the eggshell. It was deflated a bit, with remnants of the yolk sack. But no little body."

"And now we know how that's possible," Jim said. "It didn't have to bother hatching, it just left."

"It must have been going in and out of it," Bones said with a frown. "I saw it that first night, but know the egg read as still alive."

"It may well have been doing so, Doctor," Spock said. "I believe the trenwalli mutation will be a fascinating study."

Bones got up from his chair and picked up his tray.

"Good luck with getting her to sit still for you. I don't think she'll do that, even for me. I'll catch up with you guys later."

"Captain," Chekov said once Bones had left. "Do you really think those people down there will be okay? It will be a massive shock for them, to find out where they really are. That any family not now with them are long dead."

"We've got the best minds coming out here to work on it," Jim said with a sigh. "Let's all hope so."

Jim got up himself.

"Back to work. I've got that ship's announcement to get done. And more meetings to attend. I'll meet you later, on the Bridge, Spock."

As Jim recycled his tray, he looked around at the crowded Galley.

_Maybe, when the people below realize that all they have is each other, and they're all in it together, they'll be able to move on from their hates and prejudices. We could have had a similar situation if we'd been stuck in that other universe. Forever lost to those at home._

_But we'd have survived. We're good at making new families when we need to. They may all find a new, chosen family as they adjust._

_' Love conquers all', they say. Let's hope so._

 

***

One month later

***

 

 

Jim Kirk sat in one of the armchairs in their living area, in his most comfortable lounge clothes, happily barefoot. With the guitar on his lap, his thoughts were on his finger placement as he played.

He fingered the chords carefully, still trying to memorize this song. It was to be played hard and fast, but he was still learning to play it, so was taking it slow for now.

Learning to read music scale had been relatively easy. The old-fashioned printed sheets on the table stand in front of him gave him the step by step instructions he could understand. But translating that to finger placement and tempo adjustments had taken him a lot of practice. He wasn't great, but he had worked up to some harder pieces as time went by. This piece was one of the hardest he'd tackled so far, and he looked forward to mastering it. But some of the passages were very sweet when taken slowly.

He stopped for a moment and looked up.

Across from him, Bones sat on the corner of the couch, his cross-stitch project spread out across the coffee table and bit of the couch cushions. It looked like a rainbow had exploded over the whole area.

The research ship, _Devotion_ , had arrived and established orbit near the Meloy ship and the planet's three moons. With it had come supply ships, ships with crew transferring in, and ships with terraforming equipment that may or may not be put to use in the future. And welcomed mail and packages for the Enterprise. They both got packages from Sam's family once in a while. Sometimes from David or John. But Bones had gotten a specific package he'd ordered weeks ago. He'd been fortunate it had arrived so quickly.

The package had consisted of a large section of specially woven cloth, with 10 threads to a square centimeter weave. With it came more than a dozen paper pages of icon filled charts, several hoops, a stretcher frame, a frame stand, a container full of real, old-fashioned nickel-coated sewing needles, a small, colorful picture depicting the finished project, and ninety different colors of tiny skeins of string. Or 'floss' as Bones had corrected him. All in bright greens, browns, and golds, with a bit of blue and white on the side.

Somewhere, Bones had found a place that still sold kits of the old Earth craft of cross-stitch.

Jim had been leery at first. According to Bones, the beautiful and incredibly intricate forest scene would take almost 400,000 crossed stitches. Or nearly 800,000 half stitches, if you wanted to count them that way. It would be just over 53 by 76 centimeters when done and framed. As large as a good-sized painting. All done in tiny, tiny stitches.

Bones estimated it could take him a couple of years. Maybe more, depending on how busy he got.

_' **Years** , Bones?' _

_'It's **art**.'_

And it _was_ art, Jim could see. While Bones wouldn't have created the original forest painting it was designed from, his personal work in creating it in stitches was more than enough to make it art. Art that they could keep forever. Art that maybe some great-great grandkids they wouldn't live to see could appreciate and be reminded of him.

In the meantime, it would be a beautiful, richly detailed view of a forest that would draw the eye, make their living quarters feel even cozier, and remind them of home.

Jim had to admit, Bones looked cute in the magnifying glasses he wore, styled to look like old-fashioned black reading glasses. He needed them to see the tiny stitches he had to make.

And he looked happy and content, leaning over fabric stretched tightly over the frame in the stand. He was not just stitching and changing thread colors, but also checking the paper pattern to make sure he counted each square right, and each colored cross was set in the right place as he worked. He was also making sure the thread ends were woven in neatly behind the fabric. No knots. And the colors he would use were spread out and sorted by color, and shade. Soon to be sorted into the small, numbered drawers in the container Bones had replicated to hold them. Bones was a very tidy man when he had a needle in his hand.

At least for now, it seemed to fulfill Bones's need to do something personal, for himself. To be creative and keep his hands busy. Jim was glad to see his husband feeling settled, and he hoped the interest in this hobby would last.

"Play some more?" Bones asked, peeking up over the top of his glasses as he leaned over the fabric. "Or are you done for the evening?"

Jim hadn't realized he'd stopped playing and was just watching Bones.

"We've got time before bed," Jim said with a smile, deciding now was the time to drop his little bit of gossip. "I did learn a little bit of information today. It may be classified any minute now, but not yet. So, don't repeat this."

"Oh?" Bones said, eyes back on his stitching.

"We've been getting more information from the Meloy," Jim said, watching Bones closely. He didn't want to miss this reaction.

"Oh?" Bones said again, only half listening.

"All that UFO stuff on Earth?" Jim leaned forward, over the top of his guitar. "It _was_ them!"

Bones blinked, looking up in surprise. His new hobby forgotten for a moment.

"What! No _fucking_ way!" Bones sat up straight and reached up to pull his magnifying glasses off. His eyes were wide with disbelief. "Those _liars_! I _knew_ it. I _told you_ I knew it had to be them!"

"You did. And you weren't the only one to think so," Jim said with a chuckle. "We've just all been too polite to push the subject. But the Meloy have quietly come clean to the Federation. They're willing to turn over all their old Earth research, to help with Printsville."

"No kidding," Bones said, shaking his head. "All those _years_. All those years, they were _spying_ on us."

"But they _deny_ the cattle mutilations," Jim added. "Quite forcefully. I can see their point. They wanted to stay unseen. If they wanted a cow, they'd have just taken the _whole_ cow. Not pieces of it and then toss the mangled carcass back to be found. They don't know what the hell _that_ was about."

"And the anal probes?"

"Apparently, there was a few years of study of Earth's bacteria and the effects of our pollution on it."

"And they wanted human gut bacteria," Bones said as if it'd just dawned on him what they'd been doing, it made sense, and why hadn't he thought of that before? "Pollution in the food source that showed up in the gut bacteria would tell them a lot."

"Hence, the anal probes."

"Wow. That's _huge_ news," Bones said, shaking his head. "I can see why they wanted to sit on that information for as long as possible. But why are they coming out with this now?"

"Because they were there, watching the wars on Earth," Jim said. "They weren't going to interfere but wanted to see if we'd end up destroying ourselves. And the kicker is that they were watching us under a microscope, from orbit, when Printsville and all those other people and buildings were taken. And they _never noticed!_ "

"Wait," Bones said, once again looking stunned. "Someone came up _behind_ them. Took about 80,000 people and a town off of Earth, covered it up and erased it from Earth's own history, and the Meloy never had a clue it was happening? They never saw _anything_? _Nothing_ suspicious at all?"

"Nope," Jim said. "And once they realized it, it scared the shit out of them. They thought they were _so_ advanced at the time, and then someone goes sneaking around them. They never had a hint or a clue. They're wondering now if they're missing ships, people, or even whole cities of their own. And they're feeling a bit freaked out and vulnerable. So, expect them to participate more in Federation matters. They think they'd better get some friends in their corner before they _all_ mysteriously disappear."

"Well, I guess I can see the panic." Bones put on his glasses once again. "They thought they were a lot more advanced than all the civilizations they watched. There weren't many here that were further along than they were. And most of the Federation is at the same level, more or less. For them, space is now a lot scarier than it used to be."

"Yep," Jim said, starting to strum his guitar once again. "I guess most, but not all, in the Federation have just gotten used to the idea we're all really young, galaxy-wise. So, we may be surprised, but not really shocked at the idea of there being much older beings out there. Our galaxy has had time for all kinds of evolution and metamorphosis to take place, in an untold number of species.  Our group in this corner of the galaxy is still taking baby steps."

"Giving us a ton of older siblings we haven't even met yet. Which reminds me," Bones said with a frown. "What's the word on Bell sightings? I haven't seen her for a few days."

"She's visited Uhura a couple of times this week. Took a few grapes, blueberries, and raspberries. She doesn't seem to like bananas. Uhura's going to cut up some apples next, then move on to fruit native to other planets when they're available. We'll have to see about some fruits native to her world."

"Uhura said she's only spoken to her once. Telling her the banana was 'unhappy'," Bones said. Then smiled. "I think Spock's literally green with envy. He hasn't been able to get any readings on her, been able to get the ship to recognize her presence, or get her close enough to talk to him. Uhura's offerings would explain the grape I found on my chest when I woke up yesterday."

"Feeding her Papa," Jim said with a smile. "And she's still showing up to steal fruit from _my_ plate once in a while. Like at lunch yesterday, when you weren't even there. I think she's proving a point, since I'm physically closer to you than the others. _She's_ the Alpha of this litter, and I'd better not forget it."

Bones looked thoughtful.

"That ocean dream I have once in a while? I think now that that's what she sees, wherever it is she goes between here and there. Maybe that's where she lives when she's not here. Maybe that's where the other Drammonden Dragons live. I know the Drammonden haven't seen them for so long, the Dragons are just fables to them now. Maybe with technology comes fewer contact with the mutant eggs. Maybe they don't produce mutant eggs much anymore. So, the Drammonden really _haven't_ seen any for a long time."

"Certainly possible," Jim agreed. "I do think Keenser can see her when she's not fully visible to us. He's turned in several reports where he thought she was hovering in the upper pipes in Engineering, but no one else reported her there. I've suggested to Spock to look into Keenser's visual range."

Then Jim turned serious. "You know, Bones, she may just be hanging around because we have all those other specimens to deliver to the starbase. They're still waiting on delivery. When we turn them over, she may follow her own kind."

"I know," Bones said softly. He gave Jim a small shrug, eyes on his work. "And I don't know how long-lived she'll be, compared to the others. She's probably a full-grown adult now and trips home to see her Papa will be few and far between as she lives her life. If she ever comes back at all."

"Maybe she'll visit with kids someday," Jim said.

"I hope so," Bones said. He flashed Jim an amused smile before placing another stitch. "You can _never_ see the grandkids often enough."

Jim grinned and went back to playing, picking something happy to round off their evening.

 

***

 

 

Sharon sat curled up under Bobby Joe's arm on the porch swing at the back of the house. They'd been swinging in the dark for a while now. It was quiet here, facing away from the street out front. Away from the streetlights. The stars above them twinkled brightly.

"It's getting better, right? The war?" Sharon asked. "Maybe you won't have to enlist now?"

"Grandma says I should hold off. I've heard the base isn't accepting new enlistments anyway. They say there could be peace in a few months," Bobby Joe said with a shrug. He pulled her closer. "Grandma says that it's about time everyone came to their senses. But we're both afraid this war could still get worse."

"What do you think will happen?"

Bobby Joe shrugged again. "All we can do is wait and see how it all turns out. It could still go on for years, even if we're not actually fighting."

 _At least he didn't enlist as soon as we graduated,_ Sharon thought. _I don't want him to go. He could get killed. So many have died already._

But things seemed to be getting better. Things felt... calmer, somehow. As if there were going to be good things happening sometime in the future.

"There," Bobby Joe said, pointing out into the starry sky. "The moons are both up tonight."

In the distance, the soft glow of the two moons shone over the horizon. Luna had just come up, following the slightly bigger Moon like a puppy.

"They're so beautiful," Sharon said. "I always love it when the Moon and Luna are up at the same time. You hardly ever see any pictures or drawings with them both in the sky. I wonder why? You think we'll ever go to one of them? Fly all that way through space?"

"I think we'll get to both," Bobby Joe said with certainty. "Or, maybe our kids or grandkids will. Just you wait and see. I have a feeling we'll find strange and wonderful things out there. Someday."

 _I think so too,_ Sharon thought. _Something wonderful to look forward to._

_We just need to tough out the hard times ahead._

_And not fight so much._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a few notes.
> 
> First, great 'Thanks!' to my Beta, who helped me through some awkward scenes. Hopefully they're a lot less awkward now. Any and all mistakes are mine, since I tinker a lot after her hard work. 
> 
> And second, just some bits I thought people might want to know.
> 
> Lieutenant Tracy Belanty is the counterpart to the unfortunate young Biology crewman we see in Sub-Commander Kirk's bed in "In the Mirror". This one is much happier.
> 
> The Enterprise's Historian, Marla McGivers, is known from the TOS episode "Space Seed". In that universe she ended up being exiled with Khan Noonien Singh, and later perished on Ceti Alpha V. In this version, she didn't feel to me to be so dismissive of the men of her time, and will certainly enjoy her new post on the Printsville planet. 
> 
> Other than that, I've done my best to get across what life must have been like in that tiny section of the US during that timeframe. There's so much more to it, but the Enterprise crew didn't have a lot of time to become fully immersed. I hope it feels realistic.
> 
> And the whole story came about because I wanted Uhura to bail the guys out of jail, and every time I saw it in my head, she was dressed in a 1942 style outfit. I have no idea why. It became a fun challenge to get to that point.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


End file.
